The Basement
by Marz1
Summary: AU third year. I must have a sign on my back that says psycho paths please attack me. I would not put it beyond Dudley to afix such a sign to me, but I doubt he could spell it accurately enough for a psycho to understand.
1. How I ended up tied to this chair

_Disclaimer_: I don't make any money off of this, so please don't sue.

_Author's note:_ This is a little side project I'm working on, AU stories about how little changes that occur on Harry's thirteenth birthday could totally rearrange his life. If you like what I've written and even if you don't, let me know. Reviewers are spiffy people!   Also if any one has any comments on writing style or point of view I would love to hear about that.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 1: How I Ended Up Tied To This Chair**

I pulled as hard as I could, but I only managed to tip it forward onto the front two legs. I didn't want to fall on my face, so I let the chair settle back with a loud thump.

            I don't usually think of myself as a stupid person. I make stupid mistakes, but really, every one does that at some point. I should have gone with my first instinct, which was to run away and climb a tree, but I probably would have ended up here anyway. I'd have tripped or he'd have been faster. But what I did could be considered nothing but stupid.

            Parents are always telling their children not to pet strange dogs. I don't know if mine ever told me "Harry don't pet strange dogs", since I was a baby when they died, and I was probably too young for that lesson anyway. My aunt and uncle who "raised" me, never actually said not to pet strange dogs either, but my disgusting aunt Marge, who is not even my real aunt by the way, did manage to instill in me an anti-canine sentiment. She used to let her bulldog chase me around the yard, so I knew dogs could not be trusted.  

            This situation is more than a little "Aunt" Marge's fault anyway. She loved to talk down to me, and insult every thing from my height to the parents I couldn't even remember. I know now that she was trying to get a reaction out of me. Being unable to move has given me a lot of time to think about how I got into this mess. My first mistake was taking her bait. The second was causing her to blow up. The third, for which only I can take the fall, was giving a whining dog some stale cake I had in my trunk.

            I'd run out of the house, dragging my school trunk, I honestly I didn't have any idea where I was going. I was running on anger and adrenalin, but dragging a sixty pound trunk depletes both of those very fast. I finally had to stop and catch my breath on Magnolia crescent. I had some half formed crazy plan about flying to London and emptying my bank account when I felt something watching me. I should have run then, or flown, as I had my Nimbus 2000 with me, but no. What did I do? I turned around and squinted. I was sweating and my glasses were steamed up, so I took them off for a second and wiped them. When I could see somewhat accurately I took a step forward. 

            There was an alley behind me, and as I approached it, a dog whined. I should have backed up and gotten away, but as dogs usually bark at me rather then whine, I let curiosity get the better of me and took another step. Out of the shadows came the biggest dog I'd ever seen. It was almost a bear, another signal to run that I missed. The dog walked right up to me, and whined again. It was covered in thick black fir and had strange pale blue eyes. Its tail wagged.

            A boy in my second grade class, Thomas, told me that if a dog wags its tail it's being friendly and you should hold out your hand so it could smell you. He said when you hold out your hand you should make a fist so if the dog is only pretending to be friendly, it has a harder time biting your fingers off. Thomas then said "ouch" because my cousin Dudley shoved him aside so he could take a swing at me. Thomas and I didn't talk much after that. Anyway I held out my hand to the dog and I supposed I passed the smell test. The dog licked my hand and I patted it on top of its head.

            I don't know what possessed me to like the dog. It was large and scary and smelled awful, but I guess it was just one of those stupid things I was talking about earlier. I went over to my school trunk and the dog followed me, tail swinging in the air like it was trying to get the attention of the 747 passing overhead. I thought the dog's whining sounded hungry. On the train ride to and from school, there's an old witch who sells sweets off a cart. I have more wizarding money then I know what to do with, so I always buy more junk food then I know what to do with. Usually my friend Ron and I eat most of it, but I remembered being a little too nauseous to finish off the last few cauldron cakes I'd purchased last June.       

            I dug them out of my trunk and unwrapped them for the dog. They were gone in less then three seconds and I thought it must have been starving because after it ate the cake, it spent about five minutes licking off my hands. Reflecting on that, I am now even more scared then I was five minutes ago. 

            While the dog was sitting there, being friendly, I decided to burden it with my life story. The way it listened should have told me some thing was off, it even seemed to nod its head as I spoke. I sat on my trunk patting it and talking its ear off. I told it all about how I'd stormed out of the house, and had no where to go. I was thinking out loud at that point.

            "I think I'll go to Ron's house. They'll be back from vacation soon I expect. They like animals, I bet they'll let you stay too." I said to the dog. It had gone very quiet all of a sudden. "They have a pet rat, you'll probably not mind it though, Scabbers hardly ever wakes up."

            That's when things got frightening.

            The dog jumped up and growled. All the fur on its back stood up and drool flowed out of its mouth, enough to form a puddle around my feet.  I stood up and tried to back away. I opened my trunk and grabbed my wand. The dog barked then and I tripped. I fell right in the street, and it pounced on me a second later. I was lying in the road, with this monster of a dog on top of me. Its drool was dripping all over my neck and if I hadn't been too scared to do it I think I might have cried. Then the dog whined again.

            There was this huge bang, like wrecking ball hitting a wall, and then head lights were blinding me. I was sure I was going to die then, and I laughed. I've had psychotic maniacs trying to murder me since I was an infant, so getting killed by a combination of giant dog and motor vehicle must have tickled some part of my brain. A second before I was crushed under the wheels of the on coming bus, the strangest thing happened. There was a popping sound and suddenly it wasn't a dog pinning me in the street. It was a man.

            I recognized him immediately, long filthy hair, sunken eyes and the bones of his face practically coming up though his skin. It was Sirius Black. While my brain was putting all this together, Black snatched my wand out of my hand. I managed to get one syllable out of my mouth, and for some reason it was "Gah…" Even I don't know what I was trying to say. So was I shouting "Gah!" as Black swung the wand and a second later I wasn't anywhere.

            Actually I was here. But I don't know if here counts as anywhere. The lights have never come on. I can't see anything. All I know about my current location is the floor is wooden, (I learned this when Black tackled me as I made a run for it.) and there is a very uncomfortable chair. I know about the chair because I'm tied to it. Wrists, ankles, knees, elbows, chest, and waist all tied to it some how. I can't even lean forward enough to try and chew the ropes off or something. He hasn't been back since he tied me to the chair. I don't know how long ago that was. All I know is that going over my situation in my mind is only thing I have to distract my self from the growing pain in my bladder. If he's going to murder me I hope he lets me go to the bathroom first. It would be really embarrassing to die that way. Boy-Who-Lived Dead, found covered in his own piss. Malfoy would love that headline. 

            I have to stop thinking like this. I will get out of here. I fought a snake bigger then the Dursley's entire house, damn it! This is just a man. A wizard maybe, but he can't be worse then Voldemort. I'll find a way out of this. I'm not going to freak out. I'm not going to break down. He's not going to get to me.

            The floor creaked, and a soft scraping noise shuttered through the stuffy air. 

I think there's someone else in here.       


	2. My First almost Murder

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, duh!

Author's Note: Thank You people who reviewed my story. More comments are always welcome.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 2: My First Almost Murder**

            "I know you're there. I can hear you whispering." He had been walking around me for the past hour, it seemed like, muttering in a low voice that I could not quite make out. This was my first attempt to speak to him. To my surprise he answered, only 'he' wasn't Sirius Black.

            "It thinks Kreacher cares if Kreacher is heard," said a deep croaking voice. I think it was to my left. "Kreacher does not hide himself from the muggle trash The Master drags down here. If my poor mistress knew what was allowed into her very own home, oh how she would weep!"

            "Kreacher is it? Listen for a second alright?" I said. The voice got quiet so I assumed I had its attention. "You obviously don't want me here, and neither does your mistress right? So just untie me and I'll leave. You'll never see me again I promise."   

            "It thinks it can out smart Kreacher, but Kreacher won't let it out. Kreacher has been ordered not to touch the boy the Master left here, and Kreacher knows his place. Kreacher is a respectable house elf."

            That threw me for a second, as the only other house elf I'd met had an annoyingly high and squeaky voice. I suppose the thing walking around me in the dark could have been lying about being an elf, but that is about the stupidest thing you could pretend to be, so I guessed it was telling the truth. The house elf I'd met before, Dobby, he'd told me what an elf could and couldn't do, so I tried to reason with Kreacher again.

            "You don't have to touch me to let me out," I said. "You only need to touch the rope and the chair, and then I'm gone. You won't have to worry about me upsetting your mistress, and you won't be disobeying."

            "The muggle filth is right, Kreacher was only ordered not to touch the boy…"

            I heard his foot steps coming towards me and I thought I'd talked my way out of it. Then the elf gave the chair a hard shove and I crashed side ways onto the floor, still tied up. My head bounced off the wood and my glasses clattered away. It didn't hurt that badly, but it didn't do my overly full bladder any good. I thought I'd burst a kidney. I inhaled to yell at the stupid elf but I got a mouth full of dust bunnies, so all I could do was cough. The damn elf walked around me again chuckling.

            "Master did not say Kreacher could not touch the boy's glasses…" I heard the little beast smashing the lenses. "Master did not say Kreacher could not take the boy's shoes." There was a sharp tug on my left foot and the shoe slid off.

            "Quit it!" I gasped between coughs. The elf continued to mutter and laugh as it took my other shoe. Then it went quiet for a while. I suppose it was thinking.

            "Kreacher is cold. Master did not say Kreacher could not start a fire." All I could think was _oh no_.

            "Master did say that Kreacher could not go outside, but where will poor Kreacher get fire wood?" _Oh No_.

            "Master did not say Kreacher could not burn the old chair in the basement." _No. No. No. No. NO!_

            The elf came towards me with slow shuffling steps. "Hey, come on Kreacher!" I tried to scoot the chair away form him but I couldn't get any leverage. "I'm certain 'don't set me on fire' was implied when he said 'don't touch me.'" The steps grew closer. "What did I ever do to you?" 

The steps stopped in front of my face and a blue flame jumped into being in the palm of the elf's hand. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the light.  The elf was tiny and bent over and bald, but he had bushels of hair growing out of his ears. He looked down at me as if I were something he found between his toes.

            "Muggle trash thinks it can trick Kreacher." The elf walked around behind me, and I couldn't turn far enough to see it. I could hear the crackle of the flames clearly enough though, and I could smell the wood starting to catch.

            "Stop it! Stop it! That's crazy. Please put it out! STOP!" 

I was yelling at the top of my lungs then, so I'm not too surprised that I didn't hear Black coming into the basement. Kreacher didn't hear him, and I think he was so wrapped up in his little BBQ that he didn't see him coming either. He only took notice when Black used my wand to fire a curse at him. It was a red light. I didn't see what it did, but I heard the elf land. With another wave of the wand Black put out the fire, and we were left in the dark again.

Black didn't make a sound. For a second I thought he'd left again, but then his hand brushed my arm and I yelled, another one of those incoherent "Gah!" noises. I think my vocabulary reverts back to infancy when I'm scared. Black picked up the chair, with me in it, and set it upright again.

               "Are you hurt?" asked a rasping voice from right next to my ear. I shook my head no. I was sure he was standing right next to me. I couldn't see him, but there was a smell, like a wet dog, hanging in the air to my left. 

            "I have to go to the bathroom," I said.

            There was a long silence. Suddenly his hand was on my right arm. I jumped but didn't yell that time. It took him ten minutes to untie all the ropes. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me to my feet. My legs were entirely pins and needles, so I fell over. 

            "Legs are asleep," I added "Sorry." a second later just to be safe. Instead of waiting for my legs to start functioning again, he grabbed me around the chest and dragged me across the basement to some stairs. I made a pathetic effort to carry my own weight and keep up with him, but my legs didn't wake up till we got the door at the top. 

Black said "Alohamora"

The door swung open. There was a faint blue light seeping in between heavily curtained windows at the end of the hall. I could barley see the furniture, but it didn't cause Black any problems with navigation. We must have been in a mansion because it took forever to get to a bathroom. We must have gone through ten different hallways. When we finally got there he opened the door, looked inside, then shoved me in, and closed it behind me. 

It was pitch black in that room as well. There were no windows. I was feeling around for a light switch when a candelabra on the toilet tank flared to life on its own. I made use of the facilities and then turned on the sink. I hoped Black would take me for an obsessive hand washer while I looked around. The only vent in the room was too small for even an elf to escape through. There was cabinet under the sink, but the only thing in it was a spider the size of a cat. I tugged on the mirror above the sink and it swung out ward, revealing a recessed medicine cabinet. It was filled with dusty old bottles, but I moved them aside. It was all the way in the back of the cabinet.

     It was old and probably worth a lot of money. It even had one of those leather straps with it, so you could sharpen it between shaves. I took the straight razor out and tucked it in my right side pants pocket. I was just closing the cabinet when the door burst open.

Black was starring at me, and I froze. "What are you doing?" he rasped.

"I was looking for soap, there wasn't any on the…" I trailed off. Without my glasses it was difficult to decipher his expression, but I thought he looked scared.

"You look like him," he said. He took a step towards me. "You look just like James."

            I didn't see that one coming. My brain froze up for a second. I'd never mentioned the names of my parents to him. I decided playing dumb was my best bet, as it wouldn't require much effort.

            "Who's James?" I asked.

            Black took another step towards me and I backed up against the bath tub. He was at least a foot taller then me. 

            "You don't know? You don't know." He started shaking his head. "You don't know James and Lily. They died for you. Remus? Do you know him? You don't know me…" Black was getting angry then. His voice was growing louder and wavering as if he hadn't spoken above a whisper in years. 

I just shook my head. He took another step towards me so he was nearly standing on my feet. He reached for me, like he was going to grab my shoulders and shake me. I leaned back, lost my balance, and toppled into the tub. The razor cut through the inside of my pocket and stabbed me in the leg. I tried to keep eye contact, so he wouldn't look down and see blood seeping through my pants.  

My curiosity finally got the better of me, though it didn't entirely overcome fear. An escaped murderer, with magic powers, who knows my father, you'd have asked too. I'm glad I had a chance to pee first though.

"Who are you then?" I asked.

He just starred down at me, as if I'd asked him for the square root of fifty-seven. His forehead wrinkled up in concentration.  His eventual answer must have made some kind of sense to him. When he spoke again his voice was steady and intense, though his gaze was fixed on the wall above me.

"Betrayed. I'll kill him. I will kill Peter."

I just stared up at him, nodding politely as if this was a completely reasonable and eloquent response to my question. I wasn't sure if I should question him further or try to remain inconspicuous, you know, blend in with all those other guys with their feet hanging out of the bathtub. My leg was starting to throb where the razor was stabbing it, but I didn't dare reach for it with Black so close.

I managed not to yell when he lifted be out of the tub by the shirt front. He grabbed my left arm and pulled me into the hall way. He was on the opposite side of the knife pocket. I didn't think I'd get a better chance then that. I let my left foot drag a bit and got out of step with him. He got a bit ahead of me and I kicked him as hard as I could in the side of the knee. 

He fell, but he didn't let go of my arm. I landed on top of him, my knee slamming down on his chest. I had him pinned.  I don't brag. I don't like attention all that much really, but I've never met anyone quicker, in the hand eye coordination sense any way, then me.  I had the razor against his throat before he could even think of fighting back. 

The hallway was dark, but his face was still visible. He went from looking insane and angry to insane and sad. He started to reach for the blade.

"Don't," I said. I pressed a little. It must have been the sharpest razor blade ever, or I was more nervous then I thought, but he winced and immediately blood welled up around the metal. It was so dark the blood didn't look red. It looked black and oily and strange.  I was twice as scared then as I was in the basement, and couldn't figure out why. My hand started shaking like crazy. The bleeding got worse and Black just looked at me.

I could think in my head, all I have to do is pull the razor across his neck, just once, very fast and I can leave and it will be over. I pictured it, and I almost threw up on him. I could feel his heart hammering under my knee, feel him struggle to breath with my weight on top of him. He's killed people before. I tried telling myself that. It didn't work. He reached for the razor again.  

"Move and I'll kill you!" my voice broke when I said that, but he froze. To be honest I'm more of a runner then a fighter, and I thought I'd stick to what I knew.

"You stay there! You just stay on the floor! If you try to get up I'll cut you open!" I shouted. He just looked at me. 

I jumped back and away from him. I had the knife pointed at him as if it were my wand. He probably had my wand in his pocket, but I didn't try to go back for it. I should have gotten it first thing, but I was shaking and I had to move. I turned and ran.

Parents are supposed to tell their kids "don't run with scissors". I think "don't run through a haunted house while brandishing a straight razor" is covered under that topic as well, but as I said before I wasn't thinking too clearly.  

I looked for a door, a window, any way out, but I must have been in very center of that house. I knocked into tables and I head pottery smash but I didn't look back. I came to a dead end and had to double back. I was running down another long hall way when a coat rack literally stuck its foot out and tripped me. I put my hands out to catch myself. I forgot about the razor. It didn't hurt all that much when it happened. I was sort of stunned as I got back to my feet, then something hot and wet dribbled over my lip. I brushed at my face and it started to sting horribly. 

I looked for the razor and saw the handle sticking out of under an old wardrobe. As I reached for it the wardrobe burst open and a piece of cloth wrapped around my neck. I threw all of my weight backwards and there was a tearing sound. The cloth loosened for a moment and I threw it to the floor. In the near pitch black I saw a long sleeve shirt slither away, back into the wardrobe. The door closed itself a second later. I left the razor and ran into the next room I saw.  As I turned and shut the door behind me I saw that huge black dog trotting up the hallway towards me. I grabbed a fancy carved chair and jammed it up under the knob. 

I went to the window and pulled the heavy drapes back. Something tinny and chittering flew out of them, and I slapped it aside. I could see a street out there, with an ordinary street lamp, and a car driving by. It was one of those windows where you slide up the bottom half to open it. I tried to push the frame up but it wouldn't budge. Panicked, I felt the top of the frame for the latch, but there wasn't one. The door knob rattled and there a loud thump as Black beat at the door.

I punched the glass as hard as I could. There was a snapping noise and my fingers were in agony. The glass hadn't even cracked. I was making funny little "ah" noises then. Not really crying, but I couldn't shut myself up. There was a fire place in the room. I ran to it and looked up the chimney, but it was too narrow. The door rattled again. I grabbed up a fire poker and rushed to the window, slamming the poker with all my might.

It bounced back with a resounding clang and hit me in the shoulder and I fell over. I'm lucky it wasn't my face. It still stunned me for a second though.  There was another thump and the door cracked in the center. I rushed to the window. There was a little old man walking up the street with a little white dog. I pounded my fists on the window. He could not have been more then twenty feet away.

"HELP! CALL THE POLICE!" I bellowed as loud as I could. The old man didn't even turn. "HELP, PLEASE! OVER HERE! LOOK!" Not even the dog would look at me though. I could hear the door splintering behind me. I grabbed up the poker and took another swing at the window, to no effect. I was still shouting at the top of my lungs but the old man didn't look.  The poker slid from my numb fingers as I looked behind me. The fancy chair lay on its side. The door was in pieces on the floor.  My heart was roaring in my ears.

Something touched my arm.


	3. The 5X10 world

Disclaimered already!

Warning: This chapter is a bit angst-ridden.

Author's Note: Thank you reviewers! I've never gotten this many reviews this fast. The mind boggles. On with the story.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 3: The 5 X 10 World**

I'm blaming low blood sugar. And stress, I'm blaming that too, and dark magic is always a possibility. I'm not going to say I fainted.  I opened my eyes in complete darkness.

The first thing I was aware of was the bandage on my face.  It was just gauze and tape, nothing fancy, but the edge of the tape was stuck to the lower lid of my right eye. Blinking tugged the entire bandage around. It was driving crazy with in two seconds of waking. I immediately went to pick at the tape but my arms caught on something.. 

For a second I thought I was tied down and I started thrashing like a maniac. Only when the blankets were kicked over the edge, did I realize I was just overly enthusiastically tucked into a very dusty bed. I also started freezing.  I crossed my arms only to notice that my right hand hurt very badly and my shirt was missing. The shoulder I'd whacked with the fire-poker was throbbing and so was the spot on my leg where I'd jabbed myself with the razor. I felt at it and found it bandaged, and then noticed my trousers and socks were gone. All I had on were my shorts. 

More then a little disturbed I began to feel around over the edge of the bed. I eventually knocked my aching hand into small table and found my glasses on it. I slid them onto my face. _Hurray! I can see! _

I very carefully put my feet over the edge of the bed, and found the floor with my toes. Nothing tried to take a chunk out of me so I thought it was safe to walk. With a graceful smashing of my pinky toe I located a dresser, and groping around on the surface, I located a candelabra as well. As my hands came in contact with the metal rack, the wicks spontaneously combusted. 

It was a little smaller then my room at the Dursley's house. The paint looked yellow, but most paint does in candle light. I saw the door. There wasn't a knob on my side of it and it didn't respond to kicks, pounding or polite requests to open. I searched the dresser, but there weren't any clothes in it, just a couple of old text books; Magical Defense: Level Six and Ptolemy's Quick Potions Reference. They both looked as if something had been gnawing on the covers. I hoped it was only mice.  

I set the candelabra on the floor and looked under the bed. I found something very disturbing. At first I thought I had found a cauldron. I pulled it out and inspected it more carefully, only to find an engraving on the bottom. 

_Canfield's Self Cleaning Chamber Pot, patent # 351._

I dropped it, more then a little disgusted and it landed on my foot. 

Figuring that magical pants elves weren't going to bring me anything any time soon I pulled one of the blankets off the bed and made myself a toga.  Feeling oddly boisterous I made my self a blanket cape as well. _All ready for a night on the town!_

I paced the room, trying to think of good reasons to kidnap me. I knew Black didn't plan to murder me right away, as I was still alive, and since he, or someone else working with him, had put bandages on me, I guessed he didn't plan to murder me any time soon either.  I wish I watched more T.V. I never did hear who Black murdered.  But he can use my wand. And he knew my mum and dad. He was mad that I didn't know something, but what I don't know could fill the Atlantic ocean, so that was unhelpful.  I was mulling over possibilities of ransom, I knew the Dursleys wouldn't pay to get me back, when I heard a clanking sound in the hall. I grabbed up the larger book, Ptolemy's Quick Potions Reference, blew out the candelabra, and crouched next to the door.

The door opened and I could see a little bit of light on the carpet in the hall.  I stood up and raised the book as high as I could, intending to knock Black on the head with it as he came in. A shadow came in front of me and I slammed the book down. There was a huge clatter and I heard glass break.

I slammed way too early. Black was carrying a tray of food, so all I managed to do was knock it out of his hands onto the floor. The candelabra came on then. Black had my wand pointed at me.  He had stew all over the front of his gray robes. It was a petty victory but I'll take what I can get. Black looked rather surprised.

My hand shot out and caught hold of my wand. I tried to pull it away, but his free hand caught my wrist and he lifted me off my feet. I kicked him as hard as I could, and hit him in the knee again. He dropped me, which was good, but I landed in broken glass, which was not good. 

I tried to ignore the pain in my feet and I shoved him. He fell over and the wand went off, setting the hall carpet on fire. I dove for the wand, trying again to pull it away. I got it away from him for a second, but took me too long to recall a curse. 

"STU…oof!" 

He tackled me and my head bounced off the floor. My ears were ringing then. Both of his hands were trying to pry the wand out of mine. I tired to punch him with my free hand, but he just ignored my efforts. He was pulling my fingers loose one at a time, but while he was distracted I noticed a piece of newspaper sticking out of his pocket I snatched it and stuffed it down my toga, then I gave him another punch for good measure. He got the wand back then, and stood up.

I sat on the floor watching him and trying to catch my breath.  I noticed he hadn't put a bandage on the cut on his neck I'd given him earlier. It was oozing yellowish fluid. 

"Stop…doing…that," he said. Maybe my punching was slightly effective. He seemed to be wheezing as he spoke.

"What?"

"Stop…trying to escape."

And in another of my brilliant moves in this intricate game of chess, I said "No." 

Black flicked the wand then. I flinched but he just levitated me in the air. With another flick of the wand the spilled stew and broken glass disappeared. A third wave took care of the growing fire in the hallway. Then he stared at me. I think that was his hobby or something, staring at people. He looked like he was about to say something for a moment, but then he just hit me with a petrifying curse.

Know what hurts worse then stepping in broken glass and having it grind into your bare feet? Having someone use a summoning charm to get the bits of broken glass out again. I couldn't move while he was doing it, so instead of screaming bloody murder I could only gurgle it. Black put bandages on me then. I don't know where he got bandages, as my eyes were all watery and I couldn't blink, but after he did that he set me down on the bed.

            "I'm going for a while," he said. "I have to find Peter, find out who's been helping him. I have to end things. You'll be safe here. Kreacher will bring you food and water. He'll bring your clothes when he's finished getting the blood out of them. I will be back for you soon."

            He walked to the door way and flicked the wand, lifting the curse. I shouted "wait!" and dove for the door but he slammed it in my face.

            I sat down and looked at the piece of paper I had stolen. It was alarmingly familiar. It was a photo, torn from the front page of the Daily Prophet two weeks ago. I know the date because my friend Ron Weasley had torn out the same photo and sent it to me. He sent it to me because it was a photo of him and his family. He was smiling and waving like a mad man with his pet rat Scabbers on his shoulder. My stomach hurt then as I wondered why an escaped murderer would carry it around.

            Kreacher arrived a while latter. He just appeared in the room in a puff of smoke so I didn't get the opportunity to run out the door. He brought me a boiled potato, a cup of water, and my clothes. Apparently he had taken his orders to "get the blood out" literally. The front of my shirt had been cut out and the right leg of my trousers was missing. The socks were alright though, so I put them on and just stayed in my toga. I never did find out what happened to my shoes.

            I started a calendar, by scratching a mark in the wall every time I woke up, but I think I started sleeping at odd times, so I decided to account for time by the number of potatoes I was served, I guessed three potatoes equaled a day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was sixty nine potatoes later when Black returned. I was pretty sick by then. I smelled bad, my head hurt constantly, my gums were bleeding a lot and I had a loose tooth. I guess potatoes don't exactly make for a balanced diet. I was hallucinating a bit too. I kept thinking the walls were closing in on me and that some one was watching me when ever I turned out the lights.  I spent most of my time sitting on the floor in the corner and was doing that when he came back. I saw him walk in the door, but I was feeling too lousy to really do any thing about it. 

            Black's face was all scratched up, and his nose was bleeding. He limped a bit as he came in the door.  I wondered slightly about who he had been fighting with. I tried to ask him but all I managed to say was "What…?" He looked so angry I shut my self up. He pulled out a wand. I noticed it wasn't mine. It looked familiar but I couldn't recall whose it was. 

He levitated me and brought me down to a kitchen. He left me on a bench, but my head was spinning so I crawled down onto the floor. Black started cooking something on the stove, his jaw clenched. I stared at the ceiling rather apathetically. A while later Black came over with a goblet full of greenish stuff. He handed it to me and said "Drink." 

I got the goblet half way to my mouth but my arm was shaking and I dropped it. Black's jaw clenched again, but he didn't say anything. He just went back to the stove and filled the goblet again. This time he held it to my mouth, so most of it got to my stomach. He made me drink three more goblets full. I fell asleep then. 

            I woke up in another room in a bed that was just as dusty as the first one. There was a window. It was dark outside and I could see a little sliver of moon above the run down house across the street. I stumbled to it, but it wouldn't open either. I punched it as hard as I could but it wouldn't break. I started crying then. Being in that other dark little room so long must have really messed up my head. I didn't notice Black was there with me until he pulled on my arm.

            He brought me to the bathroom and told me I could take a shower if I wanted. He handed me a pile of old clothes; they had name tags in them that said Regulus. When I was washed up and changed I came out of the bathroom. Black was in the hall. I noticed the scratches on his face were starting to scab over. I must have been asleep a while.

            Black grabbed my wrist and led me to the kitchen. I thought of making a break for it, but I was sure I'd end up in that little room again if I was caught. I couldn't risk it.  He cooked a hug pile of eggs, sausage, and toast and dumped it on a plate in front of me.  I had no appetite. I pushed it away. He said some thing and waved that new wand at me. My head got all light and weird, and for a while I felt like I was floating. When what ever that spell was wore off I found my plate empty and my stomach painfully full. Black was sitting across the table staring at me. When he spoke his voice was much less raspy then it had been.

            "I'm sorry Harry. I shouldn't have left you here alone with Kreacher. He's been dealt with." As he said that his fists clenched. "I'm sorry, but you need to understand, you're not safe. If I let you go, they'll kill you. You have to stay here until I find Peter, until I kill Peter. Then everything will be right again. I almost had him, but the girl got in the way.  It's taking longer then I thought it would but I will bring you back to Hogwarts when this is done. Do you understand?"

            "Who's Peter?" I asked.

            "You've already seen him." 

I saw Black had the photo of Ron and his family in his hands. He must have found it. I'd left it under the pillow in the little room. He set it in front of me and tapped the picture of Ron. My mind seemed to clear then, things started lining up. I realized whose wand it was he had been using. I'd seen it almost every day of school for the past two years. It was Hermione Granger's. She was Ron and my best friend at school. The scratch marks on Blacks face. Hermione wouldn't give up her wand for anything.

I must have had a strange look on my face because Black started to stand, but he wasn't fast enough. I grabbed up my plate and smashed it across his face. I scrambled across the table and knocked him out of his chair.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" I shouted. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE WEASLEYS!?"

I'll pause to add a bit of advice here. If you are trying to over power a maniac, after being crammed full of breakfast, throw up first. It's very hard to over power your opponent while vomiting. Short story shorter, Black had me tied to a chair again with in thirty seconds. 

He told me the strangest story.


	4. The Agreement

Disclaimed!

Author's Note: Reviews are Good!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 4: The Agreement**

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." I said. I said it very slowly and loudly to emphasize my point.

Black expected me to believe that my friend's pet rat was and evil wizard who framed him for thirteen murders and now waits at Hogwarts for Voldemort to return so he can hand me over.

"For one thing," I said, while trying to ignore the taste of vomit in my mouth, "Voldemort has been at Hogwarts twice already, and Scabbers wasn't helping him in any way manner or form. Second, Ron didn't just find the rat twelve years ago, his brother gave it to him his first year of school, about two years ago. Third you're completely mental and if you TRY AND HURT MY FRIENDS AGAIN I'LL KILL YOU IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!"

That statement was likely not intimidating or particularly bright, as I was tied to a chair and rather drenched in my own partially digested breakfast. Black was staring at me again.

"I have to kill Peter," he said.

"That's just a rat."

"Then I have to kill that rat."

We argued for about an hour more. I thought he was just plain nuts by the end of it, but then he made me an offer I couldn't refuse.

"I'll take you back to school, but first you have to learn a spell. It will force an Animagus to return to human form. You have to use it on the rat, and when he turns back into a man you have to stun him and give him to me." Then he added, "And you have to believe me." 

I agreed thinking he would have to give me a wand to learn a spell. When he gave it to me I could stun him and escape. He'd already come up a counter measure for this though. He let me take another shower and gave me another pile of clean clothes. Then we went to the little room again. I almost had a panic attack when he pushed me inside, but I got control of my self again. He closed the door behind him as he came in. Then he cast a spell and muttered something, and the door disappeared.

"I've cast a Fidelius Charm on the door. You won't be able to find it without me. If you want to get out of here again behave yourself. I'm sorry I have to do this but it's necessary. Peter will kill you if he thinks the time is right."

He opened the Defense book that he had left in the room. I had read the book while I was locked up here, but most of it was way too advanced for me to understand. He made me read the instructions for the revealing spell, which were rather complicated as if did not require a spoken incantation, but rather a clear mental command. When I finished reading it, he handed me my wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Black's wand landed in my hand. He stared at me.

"You won't find the door."

I kept my wand pointed at him and felt at the spot where the door had been. He was right, I couldn't find it. I tried casting an unlocking charm on the place where the door had been but nothing happened.

"Bring back the door or I'll curse you!" I threatened.

"You'll just be trapped in here, starving." Black said.

I only knew a few curses, and most of those were just goofy little spells to annoy people, like leg-locker or purple hair jinx. I knew one that scared a lot of people though. Draco Malfoy had tried to use it on me second year.

"Serpensortia!" I yelled.

When Draco Malfoy cast the spell a long black snake had come out his wand. I was rather surprised when a gigantic and familiar Boa Constrictor appeared in front of me in an explosion of light.

The snake looked at Black for a second then turned to me. "_Oh it's you again. How've you been Amigo_." 

"_I'm alright, sorry about all this. I thought I was conjuring a snake, not transporting one. Did you ever make it to __Brazil__?"  I'd met the snake a few months before I'd started at Hogwarts. I sort of let him out of his tank in the reptile house at the zoo. I'm a parselmouth by the way. I can speak to and understand snakes. It's another one of those weird side effects of being almost murdered by Voldemort as a baby._

_"No, they caught me in the parking lot."_ The snake said. _"Who's he?" The snake pointed his tail at Black, who had backed into the corner._

"_He's an escaped murderer. I was wondering if you could help me scare him a bit. He's locked me in here and won't let me out."_

_"I feel your pain, Amigo. A bit of hissing and snapping then?"_

_"That would be great, thanks."_

     The snake made a few playful lunges at Black who flinched. "If it kills me the door won't come back," he said.

After about twenty minutes of threatening the boa got bored and lay down. _"Sorry __chico__, but its to cold to keep this up much longer."_

_"That alright, thanks for trying. Should I try to send you back to the zoo?"_

_"I guess. They're going to throw a few rabbits into my tank at five today, and I am a hungry. Come and visit some time, alright?"_

_"Sure thing.__  Finite Incantatum!" With those words the Boa vanished and I was on my own with Black again._

He was still staring of course. "Try the spell," he ordered.

"On who?"

With a pop he turned into a dog.

It was a week before I got the spell working. At the end of each day I had to give him my wand. I got to eat real food though and sleep in the room with the window. When I finally got it right I laughed and raised my fist in the air. Black smiled and for a few minutes in a row, he stopped looking like a crazy staring psycho killer. That wore off though when he took my wand back.

"We're leaving in the morning," he said, and sent me to my room.

I spent most of the night contemplating whether or not I should take anything Black said seriously. He was nuts, yes, but some times nuts are right. He hadn't done anything all that terrible to me, most of my injuries I'd inflicted on myself. Leaving me with that insanely sadistic house elf was definitely not nice, but if Black is insane, then he probably isn't all that good at rational decisions. I mulled over all that. I also thought of how he had Hermione's wand. I didn't really make up my mind until he came and got me the next morning.

He gave me some muggle clothes to wear and a backpack with more clothes and food in it. He was similarly attired and provisioned. Black had cut his hair and washed it. He'd shaved as well and he had on a stretchy knit hat that had one of those puff ball things on top.  It made him look a little bit silly and a lot less like the wanted posters I'd seen in the news. I was actually feeling pretty happy as we started down a staircase I hadn't been on before. Black got ahead of me and I could hear him puttering around with a lock. Then I looked up.

They formed a very neat row along the wall above me. Twenty six severed house elf heads, each mounted, with a plaque beneath them stating their names. At the very end was a very happy looking Kreacher. 

"Hurry up, we'll miss the bus!" Black called up to me.

I was shaking very hard as I walked out the door.  


	5. Alternative Transportation

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Author's note: Review please.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 5: Alternative Transportation**

Black kept a tight grip on my upper arm the entire way to the bus station. We walked down the block and I looked back at the house. It was gone. There wasn't even a path leading up to the door anymore. As we turned the corner I saw we had been in Grimmauld Place. There were people all around us. I thought of calling for help, but I looked over at Black's other hand and saw he had my wand out. It was mostly hidden by his sleeve, but I didn't think any muggle who might answer my plea for assistance would stand a chance. I started picturing people with their heads mounted on a wall.  

Black hunched over as he walked, as if he were afraid some heavy thing were about to fall on his head. It was a cloudy morning, but the sky seemed unusually unstable to me too. I guess we both had some kind of reverse claustrophobia or something. Black had told me he'd been in prison for twelve years.  I was sort of impressed he was functioning at all.

As we entered the bus station I saw a poster on the door. On one side was a picture of Black, looking filthy and armed and dangerous. On the other side was a picture of me. Under my picture it said I had been abducted almost two months ago. There was a hotline number on the bottom.

674-5656 extension # 384 Ask for agent in charge, Arthur Weasley. 

Black saw it too and hurried me along. He hung onto my arm through the ticket line, the line to get on the bus, and as we walk down the isle to our seats. He didn't let go until I was in the window seat and he was in the isle seat, preventing my escape. As we pulled out of the station I saw a short, grandmotherish woman looking at another of the posters that declared me missing. I stared at her very hard and she turned and looked right at me. I saw comprehension on her face, but then the bus sped up and I lost sight of her.    

We spent the entire day on the bus. There was a tiny little bathroom in the back. Black didn't follow me when I went to make use of it. I wanted to write a message on the wall in there, maybe someone with a cellular phone would see it and call Mr. Weasley, but I couldn't remember the number from the poster. I'd looked at very hard but it was just gone from my mind. I remembered the extension was 384, but that wasn't going to do me any good. 

When I got back to my seat I formed another escape plan. There was a water bottle in the bag Black had given me.  I took it out and started tipping it back and forth. It made a very loud sloshing sound. I figured it would hasten "the call of nature", and when Black went to the bathroom I could get the driver to stop, and then make a run for it. After half an hour of sloshing I saw my efforts starting to take effect. Black's forehead wrinkled up and he started shifting in his seat. As if the universe was helping me out, we hit about fifty consecutive pot holes.  Black grabbed the water bottle away form me then, but I could see it wouldn't help him. When you have to go, you have to go.

I didn't plan on him hand cuffing me to the arm rest, which he did. I wondered where he'd gotten muggle hand cuffs. When he returned I was still stuck in my seat. Black took a key out of his pocket.  He reached for my arm. 

"You remembered to wash your hands, right?" I said.

He snorted, and uncuffed me.

I watched the street signs out the window, but as I never really studied any maps of England, I wasn't sure of where we were. I thought we were traveling to the Northwest though. It was night again when we got out. I could see the ocean from this bus station. I could see the moon reflected on the surface and a little light, that I guessed was a boat, way out on the horizon.

"Look, the ocean," I said to Black.

He looked at me, confused for a moment, then grabbed my arm and tugged me along.

There was another poster of me and Black on the station wall, but no one was really looking at it. I felt exhausted as we walked down the street. I don't know why. All I'd done all day was sit in a padded chair and stare out the window. 

I thought we were going to stop some where for the night, but Black just dragged me to the edge of the highway. From his back pack he took a sign and unfolded it. It had the word "Scotland" written on it, large and legible. He let me sit down while he held the sign. I fell asleep, and woke up in the cab of a trunk. 

I was in the middle seat, leaned against Black's shoulder. On the other side of me was the driver, an amazingly fat man who seemed to be steering the vehicle with his protruding belly, and eating a large sandwich with his free hands.   In between bites, the driver and Black would talk in low voices. Black was talking with a fake Scottish accent, or maybe it was real and his English accent is fake. I don't know.  The driver said hello to me when he noticed I was conscious, and I said hello back. We got off about an hour later. Black and I both said "Thank you" and the man said "You're welcome, any time". I never knew his name.

We finally did sleep.  We stopped in a run down area. It was mostly warehouses and dumpsters as I saw it. Black picked the lock on the side door of one of the warehouses.  He didn't seem to want to use magic. I guess the Ministry could find us somehow if he did. We found an office near the back of the warehouse, and went in.  There weren't any windows in the office, just four concrete walls, a filing cabinet, a desk, and a chair. There was an open bulb light hanging from the ceiling. Nothing I could use to knock Black out with. 

I had a question for him, and I was contemplating whether or not this was a good time for it.  I'd been with Black the entire day, and I was fairly certain he hadn't killed anyone. I decided that this was either a good thing, meaning he was in a good mood and not in a murdering one, or a bad thing, meaning he'd gone the whole day without offing any house elves or muggles and I was the only one near by if got in the mood to decapitate. I didn't think he was going to kill me though, right then anyway. I'd already done plenty of things to piss him off, and it wasn't as if I'd been tortured in retaliation.  He hadn't even threatened to hurt me.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. He was tearing into a stale piece of bread he'd taken form his bag. He chewed slowly and swallowed before answering.

"I told you already. Peter will kill you."

"No. I mean why do you give a damn if Peter kills me or not? It's not like we know each other."

The corners of Black's mouth turned down. I think he was frowning, but the rest of his face remained mask like. "A long time ago I promise someone I would look out for you," he said.

"Who? Who did you promises?"

"If no one ever told you, then it isn't important." He went back to stuffing bread in his mouth.

 I took some bread out of my pack and started eating too. I wasn't actually hungry, but I didn't have anything better to do. I got sick of eating pretty quick though, all the chewing was making my jaw hurt. I thought I'd try to make conversation again.

"So…er…What are you going to do after you catch Peter?"

He looked at me for a long moment. "When I've killed Peter, it will all be over, and I can end this." His voice was very tired as he said the last part.

"End what?" 

"End this empty, dark, cold…" He trailed off and got a very vacant look on his face. After five minutes of this I tried to regain his attention. 

"Hey Black!"

He started and glared at me for a second. "Go to sleep. We've got a long way to go tomorrow." 

I started to object, but then Black cuffed my ankles together. He turned into a dog and curled up in front of the door, ending his side of the conversation, and my plan to sneak out when he fell asleep.

I stayed awake for a long time, thinking. Maybe Black used to work for Dumbledore, the Headmaster of my school. That would explain how he knew my dad, since my dad used to know Dumbledore. Maybe Black used to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. They never last more then a year, and they tend to leave either dead or crazy.  I drifted off thinking about how he would have taught class. He'd probably just sit behind his desk and stare at the students.   Even if that was his method, he'd still be a better teacher then the Potions Professor, Snape. I sort of laughed at my self then. Here I was kidnapped, chained, and in mortal peril, and I still had the mental energy to dislike Snape.  He really is that bad though.   

Howling woke me up.  I didn't know dogs had nightmares, but I guess they do. Black was rolling around in front of the door, growling, barking, and whining. His legs were kicking as if he were running very fast. The noise was horrible. I figured I ought to wake him up, but then he started snapping his jaws and biting imaginary things, so I didn't want to go near him. 

I threw the shoes he had gotten for me. They didn't fit very well, so if a crazy dog tore them to bits, I wouldn't mind all that much. The first shoe bounced off his back with out effect, but the second one nailed him right in the head, and the dog was on its feet in an instant.

It looked at me for a second, and then turned back into Black.  His eyes were wide and I could see the white all around them. He was mumbling that he was sorry, and only stopped after violently shaking his head.  He looked at the shoes. 

"You were barking in your sleep," I said.

He nodded, and brought the shoes back to me. He uncuffed my ankles and said we were leaving. 

We went back to the highway and Black held out the sign again. It was daytime, but still cloudy. We got several different rides. None of those people paid much attention to me though. The day was mostly uneventful. Something a bit strange did happen in this little town we stopped in, I don't remember the name of it. We were walking up the main street of the town, and there was this little old man walking towards us. He wore plaid golf pants and about twenty mismatched argyle sweaters. He was bent nearly in half, leaning on a cane and carrying a plastic shopping bag full of cans. The bag split open as we were walking by. 

It didn't really make sense to me. Black let go of my arm, which he held onto whenever we were in an area where I could run for it. He leaned down and started picking up the escaping cans. I stood there confused for a second, then started picking up cans too. When we had them all he asked the old man if he wanted us to carry them for him. The little old man said yes, and we walked him all the way back to his little old house. 

Black and the old man, John Franklin he introduced himself as, talked for a while. Black said he was my uncle and that we were headed up north to visit my grandmother in Scotland. Mr. Franklin talked about the poor quality of shopping bags. I don't think he was listening to Black at all. He let us use the bathroom at his house.   I went first.  Black went in as soon as I got out. He didn't hand cuff me this time though. I thought about running, but then Mr. Franklin started telling me I looked like his grandson Mathew, and he started telling me about how Mathew was killed in a car accident, I couldn't just run out while he was saying that. It was stupid of me not to try, but I never claimed to be brilliant. Black returned and we went back to hitchhiking.   

It got cold as we moved farther North. By the third day of our trip, I was wearing all the shirts Black had given me and I was still freezing. We were out in farmland most of the time. I liked the scenery but it seemed as if the only trucks that would stop for us were filled with farm animals, and we always had to ride in the back.  

I've never seen goats that close before, and I never want to again.  Goats are the creepiest animal. The pupils of their eyes are all strange and lopsided and sideways, and they all thought my hair was food. Black laughed at me as I shoved away yet another hungry goat. The laugh was strained, and sounded more like barking then a noise a human would make. I intern got to laugh at him, as a goat chomped down on that stupid puff ball thing on top of his hat and tried to run off with it. I don't think I ever laughed that hard. When Black finally wrestled his hat away and put it back on his head, this big drip of goat spit fell out the puff ball and landed on his nose. He wiped it off in disgust and flicked it at me, but I was cracking up so hard I didn't care. He sort of chuckled a little bit too.

After the goat truck we ended up in an empty open back dump truck. The driver wouldn't let us sit in the cab, because we smelled so much like goats is my theory. The driver did give us a blanket though. It smelled like dog. I was really looking forward to smelling like a human again. Black handed me the blanket without comment. 

As we rolled on through Scotland it started getting windy. I usually sit as far away from him as he'll let me, but even at the other end of truck I could hear his teeth chattering. I sat for about twenty minutes listening to that before it finally got to me.

I crawled across the truck to him and shared out half the blanket to him. We huddled there for a while, trying not to freeze to death.

"This doesn't mean I believe you," I said to him.

"When you see Peter, you will."


	6. Dementors

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Author's Note: Me gusta reviews!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 6: Dementors**

The last truck let us off a few miles past Braemar Castle. There were a lot of tourists around, so we didn't look out of place. We didn't get to see the castle. I was about to request a side trip, before remembering I would be asking an escaped felon. As soon as the truck had driven out of sight, Black lead us off the road. We walked through a lot of fields. I got very sick of fields. After the fields, the land was sort of lumpy. We were constantly going up and down little hills. It was cloudy again, so we couldn't see into the distance.

"How far away is Hogwarts now?" I asked. We'd taken a short break and I was trying to re-lace my shoes so they would stop rubbing all the skin off of my feet. I wasn't having too much success.

"We'll be in Hogsmead by nightfall; you can go on your own from there. It's about a twenty minute walk to the school."

He was a good judge of time. Just as the sun was setting we came over another hill, and saw the village. No one was out on the streets. I would have thought it a ghost town, if not for the lights just barely showing through some heavily curtained windows. There weren't any street lamps, so night was coming on fast.

"That path there," Black said pointing, "will take you up to the school."

I nodded. "So if the rat really is Peter, how am I supposed to tell you?"

"I'll be near by." Black said.

We stood in silence for a while, and it grew darker. Black looked as if he wanted to say something.  I thought I should say something as well. How are you supposed to say good bye to the person who kidnapped you and locked you up in a haunted house for almost two months? I was trying to think of some noncommittal, polite farewell, that some how included a request for my wand back, when Black leaned forward and grabbed me.

I thought he was going to tackle me and I started to shout that I wasn't trying to get away. Then I noticed I wasn't being knocked off my feet. He just had his arms around my back and he was holding me against his chest. After a very confused moment, I realized he was hugging me. 

I didn't get a lot of hugs growing up, I think I mentioned the "raised in a cupboard" aspect of my childhood before, so when people hug me, I feel horribly awkward. When my friend Ron's mum hugged me last year I felt a little uncomfortable.   Black's bizarre expression of affection made me concerned I would vomit on myself.  I held absolutely still, sort of hopping he would forget I was there and go take a walk or something.

"Be careful Harry," he said over the top of my head.  There was a popping noise. I stumbled a bit to get my balance after my sudden release. I barely saw the tip of the dog's tail disappear around the edge of a house, and then Black was gone. For the first second I was just dumbfounded. Then I started feeling lonely and scared, and I almost yelled for him to come back. I was about to head for the path when I saw Black had left his back pack on the ground. I looked inside and found my own wand, and Hermione's. I was worried then, that Black would come back, so I grabbed up the wands and the pack and ran as fast as I could.

I got out of breath very quickly. Only a few hundred meters outside the village I had to slow to a walk again. I guessed it would take me a while longer to get over my captivity. Dusk faded completely away a minute later, leaving me in the dark. Since I was almost at school, I thought I wouldn't be in too much trouble for using magic. I cast the Lumos spell, and a little light appeared at the tip of my wand. I thought then about the possibility of my being expelled for accidentally using magic on Aunt Marge, but I thought Dumbledore would at least let me into the castle. I had been traumatically kidnapped after all.  

It was closer to forty minutes then twenty before I could see the castle gates and my feet were killing me, but I was so happy right then I could have run the rest of the way across boiling lava.

 Ice water poured over me. At least I thought so at first. I was horribly cold and shaking all of a sudden. I looked up at the castle lights. They seemed to be fading away.

I looked around. The way in front of me seemed clear, but when I turned I saw a huge cloaked figure coming up the path behind me. The man seemed to be having trouble breathing. I could hear him from twelve meters away, making this raspy almost strangling sound. I was about to ask if he needed a doctor when another cloaked figure came gliding out of the field to my right. He sounded just like the first. Then I saw neither of them had feet. I dropped the packs and ran.

At first I thought my ears were ringing. There was a high pitched background noise that would not go away, but as I got closer to the gate I realized it was screaming. It was a woman screaming. It got colder. I stepped in divot in the path. My shoe caught for a second, but I stayed on my feet, stumbling a little. I had Hermione's wand in one hand and my own in the other. The light at the end of my wand was fading. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another one of those things gliding towards me. I realized then that they were bringing the cold. As they gained on me the shivering grew worse. Then I saw the gates were closed.

I ran up to the iron bars and shook them with all my might.

"I'm a student! Please let me in!" They didn't respond. 

I pointed my wand and shouted Alohamora, but nothing happened. The bars didn't even twitch.

White fog seemed to be swirling around me and the screaming got louder. I could make out the words. 

The woman was shrieking "Please no…Mercy!"

I stuffed the wands into my pocket and tried to climb up the bars. I was shouting to be let in the entire time, but no one was answering me. Hand over hand I pulled myself up. My feet scrabbled against the iron trying to find purchase.  My arms burned, and the fog was so dense I could barely see, but the stone boars that decorated the gate were only a couple of meters further. I could make it. I could get over!

It touched my calf. That icy thing only brushed over it for an instant, but I couldn't stop my self from shuddering. My hands started to slip. I started making funny noises then, strange pleading baby talk.

"Na…No…staaah…stop…help…uh…"

I pulled harder, trying to regain lost height; the creatures hadn't been that tall. A hand wrapped around my ankle. It didn't even have to pull. My hands couldn't hold on anymore. I knew I was falling, but all I could feel was the icy water closing over my head, and the slimy hands on the side of my face. 

All I heard was the shrieking woman in my head. 

"Please…have mercy…"


	7. Defense Against Sanity

Disclaimed!

Author's note: Review please! Also sorry about all the cliff-hangers.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 7: Defense Against Sanity**

             "Now what do you see?"

            I squinted and turned my head a bit to the side. "It looks like a fish, that's exploded."

            The woman shuffled the card to the back of the pile. Her enchanted quill scribbled something down. I'm not very good at reading things upside down, but I'm pretty sure it was writing more then just "Exploded Fish". She pulled up the next card. It looked like a cat that had exploded. I told her so.

            The ink blots were annoying, and I wanted to go to sleep, but they were a hundred times better then the curse expert from the Department of Mysteries. That lunatic had wanted samples of everything. She pulled out a fist full of my hair. (I'm very concerned there is a bald spot in back now.) She took blood samples, spit sample and samples of just about every other fluid you can ring out of a person. She told me, within six to eight weeks, they would know whether Black had put any mind controlling spells on me.

            They also thought I had cracked up a bit too. I'd gone through two mental health experts from St. Mungo's before the card woman. I don't think I was doing too well. The card woman tapped the stack with her wand and they disappeared in a flash and a puff of smoke.

            "That looks like a pile of cards, exploding." I said to her. 

She didn't smile, but her quill took some more notes. I thought we were finished, but then she conjured up a list.

"I'm going to say a word to you and I want you to tell me the first thing that comes into your head when I say it. Do you understand?"

I wanted to say no, but I knew that would only make this take longer. I nodded.

"Tree," She said.

            "Sleep." I responded.

            "Road," She said.

            "Sleep."

            "Alone," she said.

            "Sleep."

            "Mice," she said.

            As I responded sleep for the fourth time I grew rather amazed that this person ever got any kind of acknowledgement for understanding how people think.  I tried yawning while I answered sleep to the next word, but she still didn't catch on.

            When I woke up in the hospital wing six hours ago, I thought things would be back to normal.  I think perhaps my middle name should be "Wrong" instead of "James".

             My head rang with echoing voices and screams. I tried to move just my toes, but my legs ached so badly it was almost impossible. I was cold and shaking. I didn't care where I was, all I knew was that something bad had happened and it wasn't over yet. There was a tiny scraping noise. I could just hear it over the fading rush in my ears. Then I remembered. 

            I sat bolt upright, clawing at the lingering slimy cold that had sunk into my neck and face. It's a good thing I chew my nails or I could have done real damage to myself. I was still making babbling noises of disgusted protest when someone caught my hands and pulled them away from my face. At first I thought those things were back and I fought. Then I noticed the hands grabbing me weren't cold, slimy, and putrid. Well, they were a little bit slimy. The guy had sweaty hands, but I wasn't going to hold it against him.   

             He was talking to me, saying stuff like "You're safe", and "They're gone. They can't get to you in here."

            I stopped trying to dig the dead feeling out of my skin and looked at him. The man hanging onto me was sort of old looking. His face was lined, and he had a lot of gray hair mixed in with the brown, but he didn't have age spots on his hands, or that cool papery feeling skin that real old people usually get. His robes were thread bare and patched and he looked dead tired.  Over his shoulder I saw the Hogwarts hospital wing.

            "I'm b-b-b-back," I said, inspecting the hospital around me very carefully, incase it was some sort of trick. "There were things at the gate. They were trying to…they grabbed me and…"

            The man nodded. "The Dementors were stationed there to catch Sirius Black, but now that they've shown they can't be controlled the Headmaster will be able to send them away." He paused for a moment and took something off of the bed side table. I was a little surprised when a huge bar of chocolate was set in my hands. "Eat that. It will help. I'm going tell Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster that you're awake." He turned and headed for the door. 

            "T-thank you." I called.

            He nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him. I heard a little click, and realized he'd locked the door. My stomach clenched. I set the bar of chocolate on the pillow and climbed out of bed, still shaking. Slowly I made my way to the door. I tugged on the handle, but it was locked. The door was locked. I pulled on the handle again, rattling it. My heart sped up. There didn't seem to be enough air in the room. I started to think there wasn't enough air getting in under the door. I was going to suffocate if I didn't do something.

            Madam Pomfrey will be back to open it in a minute or two, I told myself. Don't hyperventilate! You'll just use up your air faster. I almost slapped myself when I remembered the hospital wing had windows. I went over and opened them all. It got very cold then and the curtains were whipping around in huge gusts of wind. I took a deep contented breath and then went back to bed. I had just finished off the chocolate when the army arrived.

            Dumbledore was in the lead. He paused in the door way in inspect the curtains, then came right up to the bed side. I think he knew I wasn't cursed or insane or something. No one else seemed to want to stand too near me though. Well the strange sort of old looking man may have, but he was at the back of the group and I don't think he wanted to shove his way through all those bizarre people.

            "How are you Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

            "I'm alright," I told him.

            He nodded. I think if it were up to him I'd be allowed to go back to my dorm, and check on Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore told me they were fine when I asked, but they can't visit me until I am declared un-crazy. 

            The group that followed Dumbledore in was made up of nine people I did not know, and one I wish I didn't.  Snape was sneering at me from the Headmaster's left. I bet he was wishing Black had killed me.  Snape didn't say anything though. I was introduced to the rest of the group. I only took note of two names though, the rest were Ministry workers of some sort.  The old looking man was Professor Lupin, the new defense teacher.  The tall black wizard with the shaved head was Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was an Auror, which made him entirely cool. He interviewed me right there, about where I had been and what Sirius Black now looked like. I told him about how Black had let me go in Hogsmead. I left out the creepy hug, but I did mention Black's hair cut. I told him about the hitchhiking route we had taken and how we had started out at Grimmauld place.  I described the house to him as well as I could. Then things got a bit odd.

            "Harry, did Black ever talk to you at any length?" Shacklebolt asked. He had this really calm voice, so it was easy to listen to him. "Did Black ever tell you why he abducted you or why he let you go?"

            I was about to reiterate Black's nutty tale about the Animagus rat that had framed him for murder when I heard it. I don't know how I did, with the curtains blowing all over the place and people shuffling their feet and coughing, and whispering not so quietly. Maybe it was only in my head, but before I could launch the tale of how Black was after Peter, I heard the scrabbling of tiny feet across the stone floor.

            I froze for a second, straining to hear where the sound had come from, but it was gone. I started thinking then, what if Black was telling the truth. Not entirely maybe, the guy was well short of sane. I wanted to see him tucked away in a nice padded room to be honest. But what if there really was an Animagus rat running around the school. He could get into the hospital wing, no problem, and he could be listening to every word I say, and if he really is capable of murder…  

            "Black said I wasn't safe," I told the Auror after a long pause. "He said I was surrounded by people who worked for Voldemort and that he'd promised someone a long time ago that he'd look out for me. He wouldn't tell me who though.  He let me go after I promised I'd keep an eye out for some guy named Peter."

            Over my head people were firing significant glances at each other like bullets. I hate when people do that.  I think they knew the Peter that Black had spoken of.  Shacklebolt seemed to be in a hurry to go then.  He asked me to write down the details of my kidnapping, and send them to him as soon as possible. I told him I would and he swept out of the hospital.    I thought I'd be free to go then, but the rest of the group wanted more details about what had happened to me.

            I did a little too much editing, I think, but I could have gotten away with it if it wasn't for stupid Snape. He's probably the person I hate most on the entire planet. He's the worst teacher in the world and every student hates him, except the one's in his own house, who he lets get away with everything. I think Dumbledore only hired him to build character or something in the student body. You know prepare us for all the jerks we would run into later in life. Dumbledore is a bit insane himself, so I wouldn't put it by him, to do something like that. 

            I had left out Black being an Animagus and I had left out the spell he taught me, in case there really was an evil rat listening in.  I left out my aborted attempt to cut Black's throat. I shouldn't have, but I didn't want to talk about it. Snape would have sneered at me for being too weak to do it, and he'd probably comment on it every time he saw me.  I thought I might tell Dumbledore about it later, but as I finished up my story for the tenth time Snape butted in.

            "Is that all you remember Potter?"  He didn't sound particularly mean when he said it. That should have given me a hint he was up to something, but I just said yes.

            "You remember nothing else? Nothing else at all?" He got a look on his face, as if had said something very clever.

            "No I can't think of anything."

            Snape turned to Dumbledore then. "I suggest the boy be checked for memory charms and controlling curses Headmaster. He's obviously been tampered with."

            "What do you mean?" I asked loudly. "I haven't been tampered with!"

            "If you were in complete possession of your own faculties Potter, surely you would have mentioned what Black did to your face?"

            "What do you mean? There's nothing wrong with my face."

            Snape waved his wand and conjured a mirror in front of me. The first thing I noticed was the scar. Not the famous lightening shaped one in the center of my forehead, but the new one. The one I'd accidentally given myself with the straight razor. I'd forgotten about it after I'd picked the bandage off my face.

            It was pretty big. It ran from the center of my nose across my right cheek, under my eye. It was pinkish compared with the rest of my skin, and it bulged out a little bit.       

            I tried to think of a good excuse for how I got it. Black was a nut, but I didn't want to lie about him and say he sliced me up, but I didn't want to tell the rest of the story in front of Snape either. So I said something stupid.

            "Black didn't do that. I fell down."

            "You fell down?" Snape asked.

            I nodded.

            "And the floor was exceptionally sharp?"

            "No I fell and…"

            He cut me off before I could finish. That may have been a good thing since all I could think to say was that I had been running with scissors.

            "A Confundus Charm if I am not mistaken. We should test for others as well. He could be under the Imperious Curse and not know it until he attacked another student."

            Dumbledore looked as if he were going to speak up for me. But he was drowned out by the crowd of Ministry workers shouting for tests and conformations and forms filled out in triplicate. Dumbledore eventually regained control with a polite cough.

            "Harry," he said. "Are you feeling well enough to take few tests this evening? I know you are tired and have been through a great ordeal, but it may be better to get this over with and out of the way."

            Thinking I would have to have a few wands waved at me and maybe drink a potion or two, I said I was perfectly able to take some tests.    

Did I mention I hate Snape?

I still haven't found out how I got away from those Dementor things Professor Lupin mentioned, or what how Black ended up with Hermione's wand. I think I'll be done with the tests pretty soon though. I've said "sleep" fifty seven times so far.  I think this witch is finally starting to catch on.

"Grocery Store."

"Sleep."

"Stew."

"Sleep."

Or not.


	8. Catfights and Visitors

Disclaimed

Author's note: Thank you reviewers!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 8: Visitors and Cat Fights**

            They finally let me go to bed after I put my head on the table and began to snore.  I was faking it at first, but I must have really fallen asleep.  When I woke up it was afternoon.  I wasn't in the main part of the hospital wing anymore. They'd moved me to a smaller room.  I went straight to the door and found it locked. There weren't any windows.

            I hammered on the door with my fists. I'd split open the knuckles on my left hand before Madam Pomfrey arrived. She was carrying a tea tray and she gave me a very disapproving glance.

            "Mr. Potter it would benefit you to learn some patience. I'm not at your beck-and-call." The hospital matron looked concerned despite her tone, and when she saw my hand she looked out right worried.  She set the tea tray down on the bedside table. 

            "What have you done to yourself now?" She waved a wand and my hand healed instantly.

            "I don't like be locked up.  I was locked up for two months there and now here…"

            I was surprised to find my voice shaking.  She looked at me with pity and I felt sick. I'm not a weak person and I was not going to let some thing stupid like that shake me. 

            "Never mind," I said. "I was just being stupid. Did they get the tests back yet? Can I start classes again soon?"

            Madam Pomfrey looked at me with even more pity and I wanted very badly to yell at her.

            "I'm afraid they came back with bad news. You have been under the influence of the Imperious Curse Mr. Potter, and until the Headmaster can prove you are free of its control, you will have to remain separated from your classmates. Its for their safety and your own."

            I felt dizzy for a second and sat back down on the bed.  

            "How long till they know if I'm cured of the curse?"

            "They'll be back to do more tests tomorrow morning.  The Headmaster has sent you some of your clothing and schoolbooks, so that you have an opportunity to catch up. Look in the wardrobe in the corner. I will be back at seven o'clock with your dinner."

            I noticed then, that she was standing rather far away from me.

            "What's the imperious curse," I asked. "Is it contagious?" 

            "No Mr. Potter. It is not contagious.  The Imperious Curse is an old, dark spell. It allows the caster to control the victim like a puppet. Once under the curse you have no will of your own, and if the caster wishes, the victim will not even recall being placed under the curse to begin with. The victim can be ordered to forget and he will. You understand now why you can't go wandering about? Black could have ordered you to kill one of your friends and you might not even know it. I will be back with your dinner at seven. Please don't over exert yourself. You've been under a great deal of stress and you'll need plenty of rest to recover." 

            She turned and swept out of the room, without giving me a chance for questions. The door swung shut behind her. My stomach twisted in knots and my brain seemed to flip upside down when that happened. No you aren't doing this again, I told myself.  It's just a stupid door and there's plenty of air and Madam Pomfrey is right outside, and you aren't going to suffocate. 

            I tried to take my mind off it. I went and looked in the wardrobe.  To my surprise my own clothes were inside. They must have found my school trunk on Magnolia Crescent.  I wish they had told me. I was worried I'd lost the only pictures I had of my parents. I picked out a shirt and some trousers and pulled off my pajama shirt. I started to pull off the pants.

            "Hey! Stop!" shouted a voice in the corner.

            I over balanced and fell down, one leg free of the pajamas. With a swirling snap of fabric two people and a large cat appeared in front of me. The girl with the bushy brown hair, who was staring at me and blushing furiously, was Hermione Granger.  The tall, freckled boy with the red hair, who was blushing as he watched Hermione watch me, was Ron Weasley. I didn't know the cat.

            I found my voice first. "It's not a bloody peep show! Turn around!"

            Hermione whirled to face the wall and I scrambled into my clothes. 

            "Alright," I said, "Done."

            Hermione turned around, but everyone just looked at the floor.

            "Sorry Harry," she said in a small voice, folding up the invisibility cloak as she spoke. "We were just going to make sure you weren't under a spell before we said anything. You shouldn't get changed so fast. We'd have had a chance to say something sooner."

            I laughed nervously at that, and after a second the others joined in.

            "Are you alright then?" asked Ron as it died away.

            "I think so," I said. I noticed they didn't want to come to close to me either. Well the cat did. It immediately sauntered over and started rubbing cat hair off on my leg. "Are you guys alright?" I asked.

            "Yes we're fine," answered Ron.

            We stared at each other for a few silent minutes before Hermione made an odd squeaking sound and rushed me. Her arms were around my neck and she was crying all over me.

            "We thought you were dead! I thought he'd killed you!" My shirt was getting soaked and my face was burning up. I looked to Ron for help but he was staring at the floor. Some best friend! I patted her on the back.

            "Well…er…here I am, not dead."

            After five minute of promising not to die, I managed to pull Hermione off of me.  The three of us sat down on my bed, and I finally found out what happened in my absence.

            "We thought you were dead when Black showed up at the school with your wand," Ron began. 

            "I was on my way back from detention with Snape, it was almost two weeks ago. I was walking up to Gryffindor tower when I heard someone behind me on the steps. Before I could turn around a binding curse hit me in the back. I landed face down at the top of the steps, tied up. I couldn't even yell for help. Then someone rolls me over with their foot, and I look up and its Sirius Black looking down at me. He had your wand. He went through all my pockets, it was weird, then he picked me up by my neck and held me against the wall. He said 'tell me the password to get past the fat lady.' I shook my head no. I wasn't going to let him in there to kill everyone. Then he started squeezing my throat."

            As Ron spoke he looked excited rather then frightened, so I assumed the story had a happy ending. 

            "Then he turned and cast a disarming charm.  Hermione had snuck up behind him, I hadn't even seen her, but then he had her wand too. But then, you won't believe what she did Harry. It was completely nutters.  Hermione tackled him!"

            I looked at her. Hermione usually wasn't much for fighting. She was looking at the floor and blushing again.

            "They both went down the staircase. I thought she'd broke her neck or something, but then she got up and kicked him right in the face! She was shrieking like a banshee the whole time. And then Black kicked her and she fell over and he started to stand up, but then she was on him again, and she was really beating the snot out of him, and I guess McGonagall heard her because she came running down the hall, and I don't know if Black saw her coming or just couldn't take anymore from Hermione but he turned and ran for it."

            Ron stopped for air and looked at Hermione as if she had recently been declared captain of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team. I suppose I should have mentioned he was obsessed with that particular team and had posters of them covering every square inch of wall space in his room. Anyway, Hermione was horribly embarrassed by the attention, and Ron seemed to have forgotten I was also in the room.  

            "Well really," Hermione said. "It wasn't all that exciting." She said, waving her hand as if trying to fan the attention away.  When that failed to work she brought me back into the conversation. "So how did you get away Harry? McGonagall told me you brought back my wand. How did you beat Black?"

            "I didn't exactly beat him. He let me go."

            They turned in surprise, and stared at me.

            "He let you go?" Ron said.

            I nodded. "He wanted me to believe some crazy story about Voldemort having spies at Hogwarts, and when I said I did, he let me go. So now everything is fine."

            They knew I was lying to them. I could see it on their faces, but they seemed almost afraid to question me further. I couldn't tell them about Blacks crazy idea about Scabbers yet though. I could see Scabbers wasn't in Ron's pocket. When he had the rat with him always put it in the right chest pocket of his robe, and it looked like he had a half stuffed bra on or something. I figured the rat was sitting in the dorm room, being a rat, but I wanted to make sure before I said anything.  I tried changing the subject.

            "So how are the new classes going?"

            Hermione launched into a long explanation of Arithmancy class. I nodded not really listening until she said "and Ron was slashed by a hippogriff in Hagrid's class."

            There were explanations and exclamations, and I learned that Hagrid was now the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, and that one should never say "Who cares about these stupid freakish horses when Harry's been kidnapped!" in front of a hippogriff.    Needless to mention, they were removed from the lesson plan. We talked about potions, charms, transfigurations, and Divinations class, where the teacher had predicted that my gruesome corpse would be found floating in the lake.

            "Of course Defense is going to be your favorite class this year," said Ron.

            "Why?" I asked.

            "Well, the Professor did save your life."

            "What? When? How?"  

            Ron's face lit up as he launched into another story. Maybe I should mention here, that Ron is very attention starved at home, being the sixth son in a family of nine people. Almost anything that will make you look at him will make him happy.

            "Professor Lupin was sitting at the head table talking to Professor Flitwick at dinner last night. He stood up all of a sudden, knocked a platter of beef off the table so everyone was looking at him. He turned his head like he was trying to hear something and then he jumped straight over the table and ran out the door. Everyone was running after him, but by the time we got to the front doors he was already at the gate.  There were dementors everywhere. We couldn't even see you. Professor Lupin shot this silvery stuff at them and they backed off, but they didn't go away. He kicked open the gate and ran out there, and a second later he was back carrying you. You looked dead. Your head was lolling around, and your eyes were half open and you weren't moving at all. He ran past us toward the hospital wing, but then Dumbledore arrived and he sent us all back to the hall."  

            He paused for a gulp of air.

            "Me and Hermione…"

            "Hermione and I." Hermione said, cutting him off.

            "What?" Ron asked.

            "The proper way to say that is 'Hermione and I'. It's basic grammar…"

            "I can't believe you!" Ron declared.

            They argued and I just basked in it. Even if I couldn't go back to classes, at least my friends were still normal. While they shouted at each other about the intricacies of the English language I looked at the tea tray Madam Pomfrey had left on the table. There was a cup of milk, which was now unappetizingly warm and a dish of stew witch was unappetizingly cold. The cat jumped up on the bed next to me and meowed. He seemed to see some mysterious redeeming quality in the remains of my lunch, so I set the tray in front of him.

            The cat caught Ron's attention then, and he applied the glare he usually saved for Malfoy.

            "Watch your fingers around that one Harry," he said.

            "I said I was sorry!" Hermione wailed. "Crookshanks didn't mean to."

            "What did he do, shred your potions homework?" I asked.

            "He ate Scabbers."

            "What?"

            My brain hurt then. This should have been simple. I find the rat. I test the rat. Black is nuts and the Ministry catches him, the end. This was getting too complicated.

            "We went up to the dorm after lunch to get your invisibility cloak.  They brought your trunk here after the Ministry inspected it. I went to check on Scabbers, because he's been sick. He usually sleeps on my pillow near the window, but all I found was blood and cat hair."

            I swallowed. The cat looked up at me sadly.

            "Are you sure he didn't get away?" I asked.

            "Where could he have gone? There was gallons of blood." Ron seemed a bit hopeful though.

            "Can't we check if Crookshanks ate him or not?"

            "Check?" demanded Hermione.  She and the cat gave me suspicious glares.

            We were presented then, with a very unpleasant challenge.  Hogwarts did not have an x-ray machine and even if it did we wouldn't know how to use it.  That left us two options. And only one of them was possible. As we were not going to cut the cat open, we had to figure out how to retrieve a cat's lunch.  When we couldn't think of any spell to help us, Ron left to seek expert advice. The locked door was no challenge for Hermione. She tapped the doorknob and it swung open. Ron pulled the cloak over his head and went in search of his twin brothers, Fred and George. He went to see them because they likely knew how to make a cat vomit. I think that says enough about them.  

            I don't think Crookshanks will ever for give me. Fred, George, and Ron returned a few minutes later with a little bag of catnip.

            "Good to see you're not dead, Harry," said Fred.

            "Mums been worried sick," said George.

            "Ron tells us..."

            "…you need our help…"

            "…in the pursuit of justice."

            It really scares me when they finish each other's sentences. 

            "We made this for Ms. Norris…" said Fred. 

            "…but your need, we suppose, is greater," finished George.

            The caretaker's cat owes me one I suppose.

            Crookshanks gobbled up the catnip, glaring at me the entire time. I think that cat knew what would happen. He walked towards me, and I backed into the door. I leapt aside just in time.

            Something occurred to me then.  I had no idea what a partially digested Scabbers would look like. There was lots of pink stuff and bones.

            We were poking through the evidence with the spoon from my lunch tray when Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape burst in. We had a few seconds to play "who looks more surprised"; the three students picking through a puddle of cat vomit, or the potions professor who stepped in it.

            Fred and George had managed to sneak under the invisibility cloak without being spotted. I think they could have disappeared without it though. At least it wasn't lying around for Snape to notice.

            The vein in Snape's temple was bulging like a psychotic earthworm. He looked at his boots and the soiled hem of his robe.

            "I gave the cat a bit of my lunch. I don't think it agreed with him." That comment did not seem to help the situation.

            Snape glared down at us, and before we could object he waved his wand and our evidence was gone. 


	9. Normalacy Squared Divided By Grim

Disclaimed

Author's note: Reviewers are cool! 100+ Whoohoo! Is the story consistently entertaining? Let me know!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 9 Normalcy Squared Divided by Grim**

            People change their minds too much. One second they want me to spend the rest of my life locked up in the hospital wing and the next they've tossed me out on my bum, with ten extra hours of make up classes a week crammed into an already bewildering schedule. I think Professor Snape had something to do with it.  Madam Pomfrey told him I couldn't receive detention until I was officially attending classes. 

            Dumbledore arrived in the hospital this morning, gave me a long look, and asked if I thought I was a danger to the other students. I said no and he let me leave. I tried to ask him who it was Black murdered, but he brushed me off, telling me I'd be late for transfigurations if I didn't hurry.

            It wasn't so bad, going from doing nothing to doing everything all at once. I didn't have much time to worry and think about Black's crazy story and the missing Scabbers. The first day of classes was so hectic I nearly forgot I had been kidnapped. 

            I didn't understand transfiguration class at all, but Ron assured me that that was perfectly normal. McGonagall held me after class for a few minutes, to remind me I had a two hour tutoring session with her after dinner. Charms wasn't so bad, but I was the last person to understand the unknotting charm. The charm was not that hard, (ha ha) but I was distracted. My attention was constantly drawn to the windows and doors. I had this strange feeling that if I didn't keep an eye on them they would disappear.  Things were going pretty well though, until my lunch break, when I was surrounded by Oliver Wood.

            I know what you're thinking. How could one person surround me? Well if you ever meet Wood you'll understand. He lives for the wizard game of Quidditch. It's a sport played with four different balls, while flying on brooms. It's my favorite sport as well, but really, he needs to work out his priorities.

             I had a spoon full of stew in my mouth when hands clamped down on my shoulders. I shouted inarticulately and bit down on the spoon in surprise. My teeth hurt as I looked over my shoulder, and glared at Oliver, but he seemed oblivious.

            "Sorry Harry. I didn't mean to startle you." Wood said, as he jammed himself into the small space between me and Ron. He pulled a stack of papers out of his pocket and, after giving everyone in the vicinity a suspicious look, held them between me and my lunch.  The papers contained the most complicated set of Quidditch diagrams I'd ever seen.

            "This year we have shot at the cup Harry. There's not a doubt in my mind that we can get it. Black brought you back in time. I knew he'd cave. You have a week and a half to practice before the Slytherin game…"

            "Is he on you already?" asked Fred Weasley, appearing behind me.  He managed to squash himself in between Wood and me. At the far end of the bench a first year dropped onto the floor.

            "He's been writing to Black since the train ride up," said George, who eyed the over crowded bench, before making a space for himself between me and Hermione, and forcing another first year off the far end.

            "I thought I could reason with him," said Wood. "I was about to send the hundred and sixty seventh letter when you showed up at the front gate." 

            Wood reached into his pocket and removed another huge pile of papers. He handed them to me to inspect.  

            _To Mr. Sirius Black,_

_            As a former member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, I am certain you can understand the importance of the Quiddttch Cup and its place in the rivalry between the houses of Hogwarts school. Gryffindor, your former house, has not won the cup for the last seven years. Rather the victory has gone to Slytherin. I implore you to return to us our Seeker, Harry Potter, for with out him the cup shall again be placed in Slytherin hands. _

_            I am sure whatever business you have with Harry is of the utmost priority to you, but perhaps you can find enough leniency in your schedule to return Harry to us, at least until the end of the Quidditch season.  _

The letter went on in that strange business like manner for five more rolls of parchment, and ended with the signature,

            _Sincerely,_

_            Oliver Horatio Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain_

            "Black used to be in Gryffindor?" I asked.

            "Yes," Wood said off handedly, "He was a beater. His name is all over the trophy case in the east wing. He played on the same team as your father."

            We all turned to gawk at Wood then.

            "Black went to school with my dad?"

            "I suppose, they were on the Gryffindor team together for six years."

            I didn't think Oliver was lying. He lived and breathed Quidditch, and he'd memorized every book and school record concerning the house teams. No wonder Black said I looked like James. I turned toward the head table, but Dumbledore wasn't there.  I gulped down my stew, and Wood began to explain the diagrams he'd made. 

            As Hermione, Ron, and I walked out to Hagrid's hut, where the Care of Magical Creatures class was being held, I made a vow to myself. With Scabbers gone and the Headmaster being less then forthcoming, I would find out Black's true identity on my own.  Wood had given me a place to start. I was off in my own little world thinking of that. I didn't notice Draco Malfoy standing in front of me until I ran into him.

            I suppose, before I get into this, I should tell you that Draco Malfoy is the most spoiled, rotten, arrogant albino weasel you could ever run into, and his father is worse. Draco has two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, who follow him everywhere and do what ever he says. Malfoy and his goons spend most of their time cheating at classes and bulling smaller students. I think you'll understand my not apologizing for accidentally knocking him over.

            He was on his feet in an instant trying to look down his nose at me, but he wasn't that much taller, so the end result was him tilting his head back and looking at me some what cross eyed.

            "Well if it isn't poor little Potter," he drawled. "The school governors wanted you sent to St. Mungo's, but I suppose Dumbledore got his golden boy out of it."

            I shrugged.

            "So how was your little vacation with Black? I'm sure he had a good time." Malfoy stood sneering.

            I shrugged. I guess Malfoy was trying to get a reaction out of me.  Ron looked ready to hit him.  I couldn't seem to work up a temper though. Maybe I was too stressed out or something. I promised myself I'd come up with a good insult for him later, or punch him in the nose at the very least.

            "Did Black cut out your tongue or something Potter, or am I just talking too fast for you to understand?"

            "Shut up Malfoy!" Ron shouted. It was nice that he was trying to defend me, but he needed to work on his comebacks.

            I saw a huge figure rushing up the hill then, and thought I was saved from further embarrassment. It was Rubeus Hagrid, the school grounds keeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor. He'd just become a Professor this year, while I was trapped in Grimmauld Place. Hagrid was about eight feet tall, and had the habit of collecting blood thirsty monsters as pets, so he was well suited to the job. I was starting to get a bit concerned though, as Hagrid had almost reached us and showed no signs of slowing down.

            Ron and Hermione managed to hop out of the way just in time to avoid a rather lung collapsing hug. Hagrid apparently forgot that, as a thirteen year old boy, being hugged by a teacher was about the equivalent of having your social life executed. I couldn't yell at him to quit making a fool of me though. Saying mean things to Hagrid is rather like smashing a puppy on the head with a brick.  

            He eventually noticed I was running out of air and put me down. Malfoy and his goons were cracking up, but Hagrid ignored them and I tried to do the same. Hagrid was starting to look a bit weepy and what he said next really shocked me.

            "I'm sorry Harry, I should'a killed Black when I had the chance, and none of this would'a happened."

            "What?"

            "He tried to get yeh before, when yeh was just a baby. I didn't let him have ya' but I didn't do anything to stop him getting away. I'm sorry."

            He looked ready to hug me again. I did my best to avert further disaster. "It's alright, really Hagrid it is. Nothing all that terrible happened. Everything's alright now." 

            He seemed more upset over what happened then I did. Hermione, Ron and I finally managed to clam him down enough to teach class. I planned to question him later. Ron told me that Hagrid had decided they would study smaller creatures first, to avoid another hippogriff disaster. Hagrid went into his hut and returned with two woven wicker cages. There was an ominous hiss from within. 

            "Is it snakes?" asked Ron quietly. I shook my head. It sounded more like angry cats to me.

            Hagrid reached into one cage and pulled out a hissing pale thing. It was hard to see it clearly in Hagrid's massive hands. What I could make out was very frightening though. It had four limbs and all of its joints seemed to bend both ways. Its lumpy little head turned 180 degrees and glared at the class with glowing red eyes, before turning back to chomp down on Hagrid's fingers with needle like teeth.

            "Who'd like to ter hold this little guy?"

            The class stepped back in horror. Hagrid looked nearly heart broken. I looked at Ron. 

            "You get the legs I'll get the arms?" I asked.

            He turned pale but nodded. 

            "We'll do it." I said.

            Hagrid held the little monster out to us, but the second he let go of it, it leapt right at Ron's face. My hand shot out and caught the creature by the back of the neck, an inch from Ron's nose. After a bit of tossing, grabbing, and punting, Ron and I got a secure grip on the creature's arms and legs. There were no volunteers to hold the second one.

            "Now, who can tell me what these are?" Hagrid asked, holding the second creature.

            Hermione raised her hand. "They're Gremlins, indigenous to Europe and the British isles, though they have been transported to the new world and Australia. They have an instinctive hatred of mechanical devises, and are commonly found in areas of muggle industry. The first recorded sightings occurred during the bronze age…"

            "I thought the professor was supposed to teach the class," drawled Malfoy.

            "Hey Malfoy! Catch!"

             Malfoy dived behind his goons as I mimed throwing the scowling creature.  

            The rest of the class flew by. We learned that to pacify a gremlin, one had to give it a mechanical object to take apart. When it had succeeded it would continue it's rampage, but you could buy yourself a few minutes in which to restrain it.

            There was no more trouble, until the very end of class, when it came time to put the gremlins back in their cages. Hagrid's went quietly enough, but when Ron and I attempted to cram ours back into it's wicker prison, it slipped out of my grasp, bit Ron, and was dashing for the forest before we could blink.

            Not really thinking, I sprinted after it, into the forbidden forest. I hadn't gone very far before I caught the little monster in a diving tackle. We skidded down a slight hill. As I crawled to my feet I noticed the gremlin wasn't moving. I tried to check its pulse and jaws snapped at me, though it's eyes didn't open. I guessed that meant it was alive.

            I picked it up by one of its overly flexible limbs and began to jog back to the school. I got a feeling then, like I was being watched. I started to run faster and stepped in a clump of Devil's Snare, tripping as the vines wrapped around my ankle. The gremlin flew out of my hand as I went over and smacked into a tree.

            I relaxed for a second and the plant let go, slithering back into the shadows under a hedge. I rolled onto my hands and knees, and came nose to nose with the black dog. It stared at me with its pale blue eyes, but it didn't turn into Sirius Black. The dog's ears flicked and it looked to the side for a moment, then turned back to me. I tried to look agreeable.

            "Harry!" called Ron's voice from near by.

            A low growl rumbled from the dog's throat. It lunged forward, and somebody's life flashed before my eyes. I don't know that it was mine exactly. A lot of it seemed to be from a biography of Winston Churchill I had to watch in fourth grade. Instead of tearing my face off, the dog licked me, and I cringed. When I opened my eyes again the dog had disappeared, leaving only a trail of drool from my chin to my nose.   

            I snatched up the unconscious gremlin and jogged off toward Ron's bellowing calls, whipping the spit off as I went.

            "You got him!" Ron declared happily, looking at the nasty little monster tucked under my arm. I nodded, searching the forest for the dog. More then ever I needed to know what Black was about, and what he was capable of.           

 __


	10. Potion Commotion

Disclaimed

Author's note: Thanks all you people who reviewed. 

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 10: Potion Commotion**

            I woke up early. More truthfully I never went to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I heard skittering little rat's feet. I felt awful as I rolled out of bed.  Everyone else in the dorm was still asleep. I thought of maybe waking up Ron, but decided I'd go on my own.

            I got dresses and crept through the common room and out into the hall.  It was still dark outside.  Filch, the squib janitor of the school, and his evil cat Mrs. Norris, were probably in bed by now. I headed for the trophy case in the east wing, to begin my Black research. I'd seen the trophy case before but I'd never noticed pictures of my father, and I was sure I hadn't seen Black.

            I'd just turned the corner when I saw him. Professor Lupin stood in front of the display case, his forehead resting against the glass. I slipped behind a less well tended trophy case and watched him though the dirty glass. He was making a weird face, as if he couldn't decide if he had a stomach cramp or not.

            He stepped back suddenly and kicked the base of case hard enough to crack the wood. He hopped around on one foot, rubbing his toes, and mumbling and cursing almost inaudibly.

            "God damn you Black. Why couldn't you stay gone?"

            With one last profanity he stalked away, limping slightly. _Someone else to add to my interview list_. 

            When he was completely out of sight I went to the case. It was easy to pick out the picture he'd been looking at. He'd left a forehead print on the glass right above it. I saw my father in the picture right away. He looked just like me. He and a taller boy were laughing and holding a short, brown haired girl on their shoulders. The girl was grinning fit to burst, holding the Quidditch cup above her head. All wore Gryffindor robes.

            It took me a few seconds to figure out that the boy next to my father was Sirius Black. His face wasn't wasted away to skin and bones and his eyes nearly glowed with intensity, rather then peering suspiciously, sunk far within his skull. Wizarding pictures don't make any sound, but they do move. As I watched to picture Black leaned toward my father and mumbled something. My dad laughed, and the girl on their shoulders slapped Black on the back of the head.

            A bell rang in the distance, and I started back to Gryffindor tower. I needed my potions book. I had a double session of potions class right after breakfast and a tutoring with Snape that evening. It was not going to be a good day.

            "Five points from Gryffindor, Potter."

            I looked up at Professor Snape, who was looming over my desk. I didn't know why he was back. He'd just been there five minutes earlier, taking points away for an improperly ground thistle. 

            "What for?" I said with out thinking. I sucked in my breath then, half hoping I could pull my statement back out of the air. Arguing would just loose my house more points.

            Snape's lip twitched. "Did you think your blatant cheating has gone unnoticed?"

            "I'm not cheating."

            "You look at Granger's potion and notes every few minutes, and yet you are not cheating?" 

            I guess he thought he was tricking me into a confession or something, but I hadn't been looking at Hermione's work at all. Snape always picks on me for something, and this time I actually was completely innocent of wrong doing. I decided to stand up for myself.

            "I wasn't looking at her work." I said. The rest of the class stopped working to stare at us.

            "Then what were you doing?"

            "I was doing my assignment."

            "And what part of the assignment requires you to turn around and look behind you?"

            I mentally cursed. I hadn't been looking at Hermione's work, but I had been checking on the door. The problem was the potions classroom didn't have any windows, just one door at the very back of the room. Snape made me sit near the front so he could more easily glare at me from his desk. To keep track of the door, I had to turn all the way around. 

            I wished I was a girl right then. Not for any gross reasons, or anything like that, but if I was a girl I could have one of those little compact mirror things, with that powdery stuff in it. I could pretend to be checking my hair or something but really be watching the door instead. Of course then Snape would yell at me for preening in his classroom, but then I could start to cry and make him look really bad… 

            I had been following that odd train of thought for too long. Snape was still glaring at me, and from the odd expression on his face, I had a weird feeling that he some how knew what was going on in my head. I had two unpleasant options then, either I tell him I was looking at the door and make my self look crazy, or I deny everything. 

            "I wasn't looking behind me."

            "You weren't?"

            "No."

            Snape turned then and glided to his seat at the front of the room. He sank into his chair, and proceeded to stare at me.

            _He thinks he can catch me at it, but he won't_. I went back to preparing my potion, which had boiled over during Snape's little rant. As I pored in the shark's blood, the back wall creaked ominously, like the wood was being pressured out of shape. I almost turned then, but I stopped my self.  _Hogwarts doors don't disappear, and even if they did, people would notice all the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins were missing._ I stirred in the clovers. There was a little scraping sound. I could see it in my head. The door was melting away and the stones in the wall were sliding together to take up the space. I looked up at Snape. He was still watching me. He was staring at me so hard, I doubt he even knew something was wrong with the door. He'd look pretty stupid when he couldn't get out of his own classroom. 

            He stood up suddenly and swept passed me. I guessed he'd just noticed the door. It was too late though. The door was gone. We were all trapped. No fresh air, and only potions ingredients to eat. The Slytherins would resort to cannibalism, so we'd have to protect Neville Longbottom. He was the chubbiest kid in Gryffindor. The Slytherins would try to eat him first.             There was a popping noise at the back of the room_. It must be Snape trying to pry apart the stones in the wall._ He was probably too busy with that to notice me. I could take a quick peek. The door was still there and Snape was standing in front of it, glaring at me.

            "Detention Potter." 

            The halls were empty except for the quiet whispering of the magical portraits.  I hurried up the stairs out of the dungeon. I heard footsteps behind me, just out of synch with my own.  I thought Snape was following me, planning to give me another detention for being out after curfew, because he'd kept me in detention too long. I sped up. Two hours of dicing caterpillars was more than enough for me. I turned into the main hall and sprinted for the staircase. The steps sped up as well.

It wasn't Snape, he never bothered to run, that would be too undignified. 

            I knew who it was then, who it had to be. I whirled, drawing my wand from my sleeve. The hall was empty. My heart deafened me as I tried to pick out footfalls in the echoing corridors. I backed slowly toward the stairs, eyes darting everywhere. I must have imagined it. With the doors and Snape and the paranoia, I must have fried out my brain. I had just convinced myself I was safe when a hand clamped down over my mouth. My wand was snatched away before I could send off half a jinx.

            An arm snaked around me, pinning my arms to my sides and lifting me off my feet. I kicked as hard as I could and succeeded in sending my left shoe flying down the hall. He dragged me into the Great Hall. It was empty now, this close to curfew. He grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the wall.

            "Calm down," Black hissed in my ear. "It's just me."

            He seemed to have missed the point entirely, but I thought it was a bad time to bring it up.

            "Why haven't you cast the spell on Peter yet?" He squeezed my wrists as he spoke.

            "He's gone."

            "Gone where?"

            "Scabbers is gone. Crookshanks ate him!" 

            "What! What's a Crookshank?" I was loosing feeling in my hands.

            "My friend's cat. They went to class and when they went back to the dorms the rat was gone and there was blood and cat hair all over the place. Please let go!" His not so neatly trimmed fingernails were digging into skin. He did not seem to hear the last part of my statement.

            "What does the cat look like?"

            "It's dark orange with stripes on its back. Its huge and its bandy legged and…and…and…" 

            "I have to talk to it, find out what happened… Is the cat in Gryffindor tower?" His eyes were oddly bright.

            "He usually goes out at night. Let go of me!"

            Black did and stepped away. For a second he looked offended, then he looked at my wrists. They were starting to turn purple and there were four crescent shaped cuts in each of them from his nails. He looked at the blood on his fingertips.

            "I'm sorry…" Black stared down at his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

            I think he could've gone on like that for a few hours, but a charging giant broke his chain of thought.

            "MURDERER!" Hagrid bellowed, as he knocked the doors of the Great Hall off their hinges. Black seemed too surprised to move. He remained frozen in place until Hagrid backhanded him. The blow lifted Black clear off the ground, and he crashed over the Hufflepuff table, slamming into the wall. Hagrid rushed past me. I saw my left shoe in his over sized hand.

            Black rolled to his feet and sprinted to the side door, behind the teacher's table. He closed the door. Hagrid was only a step behind him, and he charged into the door full tilt, but the door didn't budge as he hit it. Instead Hagrid bounced off, and fell to the floor momentarily stunned. 

            I jogged over to Hagrid, who was getting back to feet. "Are you alright?"

            Instead of answering me he picked me up, and went charging toward the hospital wing, bellowing at the top of his lungs that Sirius Black was in the castle. My repeated demands to be allowed to walk on my own went ignored.

            Dumbledore met us in the hospital wing. He and Madam Pomfrey spent a few minutes fussing over me, and then they stuffed me in a little private room and locked the door. I could hear hundreds of people running through the halls. There wasn't a clock in my room, but I'm pretty sure at least a couple of hours went by before anyone came back to the hospital. I could hear raised voices through the door, and from their unhappy tone I was fairly certain they hadn't caught Black.

            I knelt down and put my ear to the crack under the door.

            "The boy is helping him get inside the castle. That is the only explanation, Headmaster.  Black must be controlling him."

            "I don't believe that is true Severus. I do think Mr. Potter is being less then honest with us though."

            Their footsteps came toward me, but stopped as Madam Pomfrey suddenly shrieked.

            "You can not bring that thing in here! I don't care if you are the Minister of Magic. Take it outside! Take it out now!"

            "Control yourself woman!" shouted an unfamiliar voice. "If the Minister does not believe Hogwarts is secure, it is his right to bring whatever protection he thinks is necessary." 

            As the man spoke I grew cold.

            "Minister," I heard Dumbledore say in a surprisingly furious voice, "I have told you before, Dementors are not allowed with in the school."

            As they spoke a shadow blocked out the light coming under the door. The room around me grew foggy and I heard a voice shouting in the distance.

            _"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off-"_

            I understood then who those screaming people were. My parents. I don't remember their voices but that was my father about to die, I knew it. I felt frozen to death, but instead of crawling away from the door I leaned towards it. A slimy gray hand slid under the door and closed over mine.

            That shouldn't have been possible. It would have been hard to fit a pencil under the door, much less a hand, but I didn't think a bucket full of logic would cause it to let go. All the heat in my body seemed to pore out through my hand, and as it left the screaming returned.

            _"Kill me instead, please not Harry!"_

            After that I didn't think much at all. Well, until a sudden blow to the cranium brought me back a few of my senses. 

            I was still kneeling on the floor when the professors finally decided to rescue me. Someone, no doubt dramatically, kicked the door open, knocking me in the head with it. The white fog disappeared to be replaced by a general, over all fuzzyness.

            People were putting me on my feet, and asking me if I was all right. Through the open door I saw the Dementor gliding out the main door of the hospital, pursued by a glowing silver penguin, which waddled doggedly after it. There were a few men in dark blue robes standing next to a man I recognized as the Minister of Magic. He wore a bowler hat and pinstriped suit, and was watching the penguin as well. I tried to follow the dementor, I guess I thought it knew where my dad was. In my defense I had just received a blow to the head. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey caught my arms as I stumbled toward the door.

            "Harry where are you going?" the Headmaster asked.

            "I've got to help my dad. He found us and mum's going to run, but he's coming and there's no where to go…"

            The room tilted and I leaned trying to compensate. I ended up on the floor.

            "It's cold here." I said, then it got dark.


	11. Background Checks

Disclaimed

Author's note: Thank you reviewers! Also, people have commented on how Harry is constantly getting injured. To address this I say, if you plan on having zany adventures you better have good medical insurance.  Also Props to the brothers Grimm and their fairy tales, and whoever owns the copyright on them.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 11: Background Checks**

            I don't have a habit of provoking teachers for attention or anything like that, but it seems like I've gained the power to infuriate any and all adults who come within ten feet of me.

            "Harry, Please tell me who gave this to you," Professor Lupin asked, tapping the portfolio.

            I shrugged. I was supposed to be getting tutoring on Redcaps and Boggarts from him, not the third degree. I could've told him I got it from Kingsley Shacklebolt, after much immature sulking. But I wanted to keep most of those details to myself.

            Kingsley had interviewed me that morning, about my most recent run in with Black. As usual I was in the hospital wing, gorging on chocolate and hot cocoa, to counteract my most recent run-in with a dementor. Shacklebolt came in and asked me the standard questions. "Did Black look different? What did he say to you and what did you say to him?" All of that. And of course my answers were cow plop, and he knew it. For a few seconds I thought he was going to let me get away with it, but then Shacklebolt got in my face. Well not in my face exactly, but definitely too close to conveniently avoid eye contact.  

            "Did Black threaten you? Is that why you're lying?" Shacklebolt asked.

            "No." I said, lifting the mug of cocoa and trying to look honest.

            "I can't tell you what I don't know." I said, spilling hot liquid all over my shirt.

            "We can't protect you if you don't help us. Do you understand that your life is in danger?"

            "Yeah, I noticed. Twice in three days dementors have attacked me. If you guys get much more protection for me I won't make it to Christmas exams."

            "This is not a joke. Harry, you don't know what Black is capable of."

            "So why don't you tell me? Why doesn't anybody tell me?"

            Shacklebolt stared at me for a long moment, and then took a portfolio from a pocket in his robes. I guess it had some kind of spell on it, as it was too large to fit in there otherwise. He handed it to me.

            "Black may have told you something that's convinced you of his innocence, but he betrayed a lot of good people to he-who-must-not-be-named. I'd appreciate your not mentioning you got this information from me. Read it, and if you…_remember_…something about Black, that you think I need to know, owl me." 

            And so I came into possession of Black's official Ministry file. 

            I'll be the first to admit that paging through the file under my desk in my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class was less then clever. The class was very interesting, but I couldn't keep from taking out of my book bag. I almost wished the Auror hadn't given the portfolio to me, right before classes anyway. Professor Lupin turned to write something on the board, and I took the opportunity to lift up the edge of the portfolio and peek inside. There was a picture of Black clipped on top of a huge pile of parchment.

            "Please bring that up here, Harry."

            As I looked up I realized Professor Lupin as well as the entire class was watching me. I looked through my bag trying to find another object, one that I wouldn't mind being confiscated.

            "The folder Harry, bring that up here." The professor clarified.

            Reluctantly I brought it to him. He opened the portfolio and promptly dropped it on the floor. A picture of Black sprang loose and fluttered across the room. I caught it right before it landed on Parvati Patil's desk. She saw it and gasped dramatically. I brought the picture back to Lupin who stuffed it in the portfolio, slammed it shut, and then stuffed it into his desk drawer.

            "You may pick this up after class this evening," he said, then returned his attention to the other students. "I suppose that's as good a place to stop as any. If you will all please put your books away and take out your wands, we will spend the rest of the period on a short field trip." 

            The field trip was exciting. The professor waded out into the lake, caught a pair of grindylows, (scaly, monkey-like, water demons) and let us practice escaping from them. Dean Thomas volunteered to tackle one of the creatures wand-less, and earned Gryffindor ten points. I forgot I was mad at Lupin, until now. Where was I?

            "Harry, where did you get this?"

            "One of the Aurors. He only loaned it to me. He'll need it back."

            Lupin gave me a long appraising look. ( I was getting violently sick of long looks by this time.) Then he sighed.

            "I'll return it to you at the end of the lesson." He shuffled the papers around on his desk. I guess he was gathering his thoughts. He must have had an entire dumpster full of thoughts, because it took about five minutes for him to finally ask, "You read the chapters I assigned?"

            "Yes sir." There's plenty of time for reading in psychological quarantine.

            "Alright then. Unfortunately I wasn't able to get another Redcap, but a boggart turned up in Mr. Filch's broom closet, so you can have a go at that, at the end of the lesson. Any questions before we start?"

            I said no. I took a written quiz on Redcaps. I think I did all right. Lupin gave me an outline for all the material I would have to learn before Christmas exams. That took up most of the lesson. With twenty minutes left, Professor Lupin went to his office and returned levitating a battered old trunk. It kicked and rattled as he set it down on his desk.

            "Do you remember the major weakness of a boggart, Harry?"

            "They're shape shifters, who turn into the thing that will frighten you the most, but they don't do well against groups."

            "Exactly. We won't have quite the advantage a classroom full of students would, but I think we can handle it."

            "You have to picture the thing that frightens you the most, and think of how you could make that thing appear funny. When the boggart appears, point your wand at it, with the humorous image in your head and shout 'Riddikulus!' The boggart should become very silly looking, and your resulting laughter will banish it. Any questions?"

            "No, Sir." I struggled to think of the thing that would scare me the most. I was very much not fond of small, door-less rooms, but I didn't think the boggart was capable of moving walls around.

            "On three then," Professor Lupin said. "One…two…three!"

            The trunk burst open.

            At first I couldn't figure out what the boggart had become, it just didn't seem to be anywhere, and then I looked toward the door to find it gone, and the walls closing in. I wasn't sure what to point my wand at. Desks were tipping over, pushed into the center of the room by the constricting stone, and making a metallic grating sound that hurt my teeth. The ceiling sunk towards me as well.

            This really wasn't funny.

            I didn't know what to point my wand at, but if the boggart was controlling the entire room it shouldn't be too hard to miss. But how could you make a slow crushing death funny? I started to sweat. I could put circus wallpaper on them, but no, the last thing I wanted to see was not freakish grinning clowns. The ceiling touched the top of my head, and I knelt. I swung my wand.

            "Riddikulus!"

            I guess some part of my brain, that I didn't know about, was working. The walls turned a dark brown color and developed a strange spongy texture. The whole place smelled like ginger. I wasn't sure what I had done, until two small German children pushed past me. They scooped out chunks of the wall with their bare hands and began to stuff their faces.

            I find my own laugh fairly embarrassing. I used to seriously consider not giving in to any sort of humor at all until my voice had gone down a few octaves, but despite being way too high and giggly, it was still effective. Hansel, Grethel and the ginger bread walls vanished with a pop.

            In a blink, the walls were back to normal. The desks looked as if they had never been moved. I whirled around, looking for it, and tripping over my own feet. As I turned I came face to face with Sirius Black. That threw me. Black was definitely scary at times, but he hadn't made it into my top ten list. Black's hand darted out, catching the front of my robe and lifting me off of my feet with out effort. Then I noticed he wasn't looking at me.

            "Him too, Remus. All of them," Black said. He was speaking in a clear, strong voice and smiling with even white teeth. His face wasn't a skull like mask and didn't squint as if any light at all was blinding. This must be the Sirius Black Professor Lupin remembered. 

            "What are you going to do when I break his neck Remus?" Boggart Black asked, giving me a tooth-rattling shake. "Going to cry again? Going to run away and…"

            "Riddikulus." Lupin said.

            There was a pop and Sirius Black turned into a tiny jet-black puppy dog, with unnerving blue eyes. Lupin choked out a very forced laugh.

            _What next?_ I wondered.

            As if answering the puppy dog exploded in a cloud of shadows. It condensed a moment later into a towering cloaked figure. Happiness went out of the world, and white fog poured in.

            "Stand aside."

            "Me instead…"

            "Avada Kedavra!"

            There was a flash of bright green light and someone slapped me.

            "Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry!" The annoying chant rattled around in my brain. I was lying on the floor.

            "What? What? What?" I said. I tried to sit up, eyes still cloudy, and managed to bash heads with Professor Lupin.  He pulled me to my feet, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

            "Are you all right?" Lupin asked.

            "Yeah. When do we learn to get rid of those things?"

            "The Riddikulus charm, Harry. Are you certain you feel alright?" Lupin walked around his desk and began rummaging through the drawers.

            "I'm fine.  I meant when do we learn to get rid of Dementors? I couldn't find anything in the textbook about them." My teeth were chattering, but I was much less shaky than the last time I'd run into one of those things.

            "Generally they aren't covered until seventh year. The charm to banish them is terribly complicated."

            "Oh." 

            Lupin closed the desk drawer and handed me a chocolate bar.

            "I've got a feeling I'm going to need to know that charm a bit before then," I said.

            Lupin looked thoughtful, but he usually does. "I can recommend some books," he said, "but I think you should focus on the curriculum until Christmas vacation at least."

            I nodded. He wrote up a list and handed it over to me, as well as the next week's homework. Then he picked up the portfolio.

            "Harry, what did you intend to do with this information?" Lupin asked.

            "I wanted to know what was going on. Everyone seems to know all about Black and they won't tell me, but I've got as much right to know as anyone, don't I? I'm the one who was kidnapped. What, do they think I'm too stupid to handle it? That my poor tiny little brain will explode if I see his arrest record? I've fought a basilisk and they think I can't handle words! Do I have a sign on my back that says 'please confuse me' or…" I cut my self off mid-rant.

            Lupin nodded as I spoke, and he might have been trying not to laugh but I wasn't sure. He held the portfolio out to me, but he held onto his end as I tried to take it.

            "Before you go running off, I want you to promise me something. No matter what you find, or you think you find out about Black, please promise me you will not try to hunt him down."

            "I promise I won't go hunting for him."

            He let go of the portfolio. I turned and left with out another word. 

            _That isn't much of a promise_, I thought as I jogged up to Gryffindor tower. If Black had done something terrible I wouldn't have to go looking for him. He would come to me. 

            Hermione, Ron, and I sat on the floor of the common room. Percy Weasley, (Ron's older brother and Head Boy at the school) kept trying to send us to bed, but since there wasn't an actual rule saying we couldn't stay up all night studying, there was really nothing he could do. As soon as Percy gave up, I took out the portfolio and we divided it.   Hermione took the legal documents, I read the newspaper clippings, and Ron looked at the pictures.

            I read a lot about how Black had gone insane after the defeat of Voldemort. I can see the going insane part, but I didn't think Black would make a very good minion of the Dark Lord. He apologizes too much. The articles said Black had murdered Pettigrew and twelve muggles who were standing too close. The piece of Pettigrew they found was his finger. That in itself seemed suspect to me. Most police wouldn't give you up for dead if they found just your finger. With muggles I think they need to find fifty one percent of the corpse, or maybe that was for bounty hunters? Anyway the information I found didn't rule out Black's story. It said they suspected he was passing information to you-know-who, but it didn't say what information. It was a lot of writing with very little content. 

            "Oh my!" Hermione declared. She's the only person under the age of forty I've ever heard use that phrase.

            "What is it?" asked Ron.

            "Harry, you're mentioned in Black's will."

            "What? Where?"

            "You're one of the beneficiaries if he dies, so are your parents, and Professor Lupin is mentioned as well, and a man named Peter Pettigrew."

            "Huh? Let me see!"

            The parchment was placed in my hands. I read it quickly, the only part I understood was the part Black had written himself.

            _To my friend Peter Pettigrew I bequeath my dictionary, so he may understand the word bequeath. I also leave him all my defense spell books, charms, and potions. Watch out for yourself,f Peter. To my friend Remus Lupin I leave all my other books and the Black family home. Defile it in the manner you see fit. I recommend torching it for the insurance money. To Lily and James Potter I leave everything in the Black family vault, and any other money I've got lying about. Take care of each other. To my godson Harry Potter, I leave my flying motorcycle, so that he may frighten his mother, and all my copies of _Night Ladies Magazine_, so that I might be a continuing bad influence from beyond the grave. I leave all else to Albus Dumbledore, so that he may continue the fight._

            The rest of the document was written in lawyer-ese. 

            "I can't believe this." I said. I had a godfather, someone who promised to take me in if my parents died.

            "What?" Ron asked, taking the paper from me, and reading it. He goggled a second later.

            "I can't believe this!" Ron said, and handed Hermione the paper.

            "I know," Hermione said. "Harry, what are you going to do about it?"

            "Yeah," Ron said. "I don't think your Aunt and Uncle would let you keep a flying motorcycle."


	12. The Proof

Disclaimed

Author's note: Reviews are good.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 12: The Proof**

            I skipped breakfast and went straight to the headmaster's office. I brought a copy of the will with me, but I left the rest of the portfolio in my dorm room. I had a strange feeling that Dumbledore might feel compelled to confiscate my evidence. I didn't have a chance to rethink my course of actions while fumbling for the password to get by the gargoyle that guards the door to the headmaster's office. Professor Sprout was leaving just as I arrived. 

            "Are you feeling alright son? You look a bit under the weather," she said.

            "I'm fine, thanks. I just need to talk to Professor Dumbledore." 

            She nodded and let me pass. I took the stairs two at a time but when I got to the door I didn't want to go in. I mean, what if I asked him and he still wouldn't tell me? I could ask Lupin, but I didn't know him that well, and I didn't want to have to ask anyone else.  Dumbledore knows everything, just about, but he keeps it all to himself. I started thinking then about Tom Riddle.

            Last year I had to fight the ghost of Tom Riddle, the heir of Slytherin. The ghost possessed my friend Ron's little sister, and let a basilisk loose in the school.  Dumbledore was forced to leave the school and my friend Ron and I, with the involuntary help of last year's DADA professor, had to go into the creature's lair on our own. If Dumbledore had just told everyone that Tom Riddle was really the younger version of Lord Voldemort none of that would have happened. Ron sister would never have messed around with that ghost and we'd have all been spared a lot of grief. I was about to turn around and rethink this whole confrontation thing when a voice called out through the door.

            "Come in Harry."

            No going back then. I pushed open the door and went in.  Dumbledore's office is filled with junk, all sorts of strange boxes with wires sticking out every which way and random antennae. Of course that's not nearly as strange as the Headmaster himself. I suppose he was still in his pajamas, but with him one can never be entirely sure. He wore a neon pink bath robe with powder blue chickens embroidered all over it. He was drinking tea and signing forms.

            "What's troubling you this morning?" he asked.  The light was shining oddly off his glasses and I couldn't see his eyes. I walked to his desk and set my copy of the will down in front of him.

He barely glanced at it before asking, "Where did you get this?"   

            "One of the Aurors lent it to me."

            "Mr. Shacklebolt was it?"

            I nodded.

            "Harry, there are some things that you would be indescribably happier not knowing."

            "I'd rather be alive and depressed then happily dead, Sir."

            Dumbledore sighed. "What do you want to know?"

            "I want to know what Black did. Shacklebolt gave me some other papers as well, and they all talk about the explosion and Pettigrew and the dead muggles, but there was something else that no one's written down. There are hints that he was working for Voldemort, but what did he do? I can tell Shacklebolt has something personal against Black, and so does Professor Lupin. I want you to tell me what Black did."

            "Harry, sit down."

            Ever get the feeling that you should pound some nails into a bat and go on a smashing spree? As I walked out of the Headmasters office, I did. He was calling something after me, but I didn't understand what. I didn't really hear anything until I was on the roof of the astronomy tower, and I don't quiet remember how I got there. I stood looking down at the school grounds trying to sort out the haze floating through my brain.

            My father's best friend at Hogwarts was a boy named Sirius Black. They went every where together and raised all kinds of hell. They had two other friends named Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. The four of them were inseparable and after they graduated school, all four joined the fight against Voldemort.  When Voldemort came looking for my mom and dad they hid. Only Black new where, and he gave them away. He ran into Peter Pettigrew on a muggle street, and killed him, and everyone within thirty feet of him.

            Black was mad when they caught him, laughing and incoherent. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban, the island home of the dementors, and was the first wizard ever to escape from it. Black said he needed to protect me. Black said he promised. He said he was sorry. How could I even consider believing him? 

            I punched the nearest stone parapet as hard as I could.

            Why can't this stuff be simple? Why couldn't Black just say, 'I killed your parents and now I'm after you'? Why did he apologize?  Why didn't he smack me around when he had the chance? Maybe betraying my parents really did push over the edge. Maybe he really was sorry. Maybe I'm an idiot for not killing him when I had the chance. I still wasn't sure if I wanted him dead or not, but I knew I had to talk to him again. I had to know.

 The biggest problem with boarding school is there isn't any privacy.  If I want to sit on roof and brood then I think its only fair that I'm allowed to. I knew I'd get a truck load of detentions when I finally went back to class, but I'd pay that bill when it arrived.  I really didn't need my jumbled thoughts interrupted by the Weasley twins. 

            "Top of the mornin' to you!" shouted Fred Weasley, less then three inches from my ear.

            I nearly toppled off the roof.

            "You know I think its afternoon now," said George.

            "So it is. You know I do believe we're missing herbology."

            "I thought we were missing charms."

            "Well we do know one thing for certain. Harry, you've missed potions."

            "Hermione was quite upset." George added. "She sent us looking for you."

            "Its not as if we wouldn't also skived off potions, but Snape took quiet a lot of points from Gryffindor."

            "We were simply wondering at your…motivation."

            The twins paused to stare at me expectantly.

            "Here's the thing," I said. "Do you ever get the feeling that the second you turn your back, someone's going to stab you, and then start thinking that maybe there is no point in trying to trust anyone, because how can you really understand what they're thinking and then you realize that the world is built on a shaking tower of interconnected lies in which everyone participates, and the only chance you have at justice depends on the whims of compassionless, omnipotent fate?"

             "No," said Fred.

            "One time," said George. "But then we put glue on all the toilet seats in the Prefect's bathroom. Solved that crisis, spot on."

            "You know what you need Harry?" asked Fred.

            "What?"

            "Senseless mayhem, and lots of it," said George.

            "I think we can help him out with that," said Fred.

            "You mean…? But no, how can we part with it? It's become a part of us, as dear as a toenail!"

            "It's for a greater good."

            "I suppose you're right."

            They both paused their bantering to watch me. I played along.

            "What are you two going on about?"

            Fred took an old bit of parchment from his pocket and tapped it with his wand.

            "I solemnly swear I am up to no good!" he declared, and handed the parchment to me.

            And thusly I came into possession of the Marauder's Map, a detailed diagram of the entire school and grounds. Every hall way, bathroom stall and broom closet was neatly labeled, and a myriad of secret passages appeared as well.. The most interesting thing about the map though, was the people.  Every person within the map's range was represented by a tiny named dot. I found Fred, George and my self easily. It was harder to pick out people in crowded areas like the Great Hall and the Library, but if you tapped the dot with your wand, you could zoom in on the area of interest. 

"How did you do this?" I asked.

"Sadly we can't take credit…"

"…but really, the map seemed meant for us,"

            "We recommend a little preemptive revenge against Snape."

            "Go luck Harry and…"

            "…make sure you stay out of trouble."

            "The getting caught kind."

            With that last comment Fred and George walked away. I stood watching the little dots roam the surface of the Marauder's Map.  Snape was in his office. The library was crowded with first and second years. I traced the course of one of the secret passages with my finger. It cut under the court yard and the Great Hall, turning a bit beneath the dungeons. I stopped as the tunnel passed beneath a room labeled kitchens. The label drifted slowly around the drawn confines of the room, trying not to cover any of the dots, with names like Blinky, Buttons, and Sotsy.

            The room was packed wall to wall with names. I held the map a few inches from my face trying to decipher them all. I couldn't figure out how all those people would fit in that room, or why they would bother to stay in such uncomfortably crowded conditions. Then the kitchen label slid to one side, revealing a dot labeled Peter Pettigrew.

            I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. For a minute my brain froze, and I laughed a bit, though I'm still not sure if it was relief or crazy terror behind it. Somebody some where had just been proved right. I ran for the kitchens, they were not too far away.

            I arrived in less then three minutes, but there was no door, just a painting of a bowl of fruit. I attempted several passwords, but they had no effect on the painting. Nothing happened. I checked the map again. Peter Pettigrew could be no more then ten feet away from me. I drew my wand in my right hand and felt along the painting with my left, trying to find a catch or hidden switch. As my hand slid across a pear the painting emitted an unnerving giggling sound and the pear turned into a door handle. I pulled it and the painting swung forward on a hinge. I stepped around it and peered into the room. An uncountable number of wide green eyes stared out at me.

            "…er…Hello," I said.

            Tiny green hands caught my sleeves and dragged me inside.

            It's not as if I have something against house elves, it's just that they're strange in the head. Kreacher and Dobby were the only elves I'd met before, but this new lot didn't give me much hope for the species. I started to ask if any of them had seen a rat in the kitchen when a spoon full of treacle pudding was shoved in my mouth.

            "What does you think Sir? Does it need more sugar?"

            "Does Sir wish to try some cookies?"

            "Does sir need a snack?"

            "Does sir wish us to wash his shoes?"

            I tried to extricate my self from the circle of elves but every place I tired to step was already occupied. I checked the map again.  The dot labeled Peter Pettigrew was moving quickly toward the opposite side of the room. I stuffed the map in my pocket and hopped over the heads of the nearest elves, onto a miniscule area of clear counter space. There were multiple gasps at the filthy state of my shoes. I had to doge a barrage of cleaning charms as I ran along the counter, hopping over bowls of dough and half plucked chickens.  

            I saw the rat then. I sat directly before a jagged hole in the baseboards of the back most cabinets, staring at me with beady black eyes. I paused and we stared at each other. Should I risk firing a stunner at him, or try to lure him in closer? I was charged to the point that my hands were shaking, and that made the decision for me. I couldn't trust my aim.

            "Come here Scabbers. Good rat." I climbed slowly down from the counter and held out my hand, making little summoning motions with my fingers. The elves backed away, giving me room.

            "Ron's been looking all over for you." I took a step closer. "Hermione's even promised to get rid of her cat."

            The rat was no more then three feet away. I noticed then that the rat was staring at my right hand. I followed its gaze and noticed I still had my wand out. If I could grab a hold of it I could bring the rat straight to Dumbledore. If I did the spell with him watching no one would argue. I just couldn't let the rat figure it out yet. I put the wand in my pocket.

            I leaned toward Scabbers. The rat inched towards me and I was certain I had him fooled. Its whiskers brushed against my fingers, as it sniffed at me. I darted forward and my hands closed around the rat's squirming body. It squeaked desperately.      

            I'll pause here to point out to the general public that despite the small size of the common rat it is capable of delivering a rather large and powerful bite.

            As I cursed, waved my hand about, and splattered the surrounding house elves with blood, the rat ran for the crack in the baseboards. I dove after it. I wasn't fast enough. I did manage to get a quarter million splinters in my already injured hand and squash a house elf though. I crawled back to my feet and helped up the elf I had fallen on.

            "Sorry about that," I said, trying to dust the stunned creature off. "I was trying to catch the rat you see."

            The elves by that point had decided I was insane and they backed away, giving me a clear path to the door.

            "Well it was nice meeting you," I said backing out. "The food's great, keep up the good work." After an eternity of backing away I finally made it out the door. It slammed shut behind me.

            I took the Marauder's Map out again, but the dot labeled Peter Pettigrew was no where to be seen. 


	13. Kicking My Credibility in the Shorts

Disclaimed

Author's note: This chapter is short, but the next one is crazy long to make up for it. Recycle, Reduce, Review!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 13: Kicking My Credibility in the Shorts.**

            The good news was I knew Black was not a liar or entirely out of his mind. The bad news was there was a rat running around the school, who knew that I knew that he was a murderer. As I sprinted to Dumbledore's office I added Crookshank's innocence to the good news category. 

            As I passed, a group of sixth years shouted after me something about 'Mad Potter', another train of thought derailed in my mind. What if Dumbledore didn't believe me? What if he thought I was nuttier then a jar of Skippy and called in the psychologists again?  Then I wondered what I was worried about. Dumbledore believe I'd fought a basilisk summoned by Tom Riddle on the evidence of a decomposing diary. My still bleeding rat bite should be more then convincing.

            I was about to pop a lung when I finally reached the gargoyle and of course the password was the fiftieth candy I thought of. 

"Toe-jam tarts!"

I stumbled up the staircase and burst through the door. "Professor Dumbledore I've found…"

The kind hearted and attentive head of the school was not sitting at his usual junk cluttered desk, and though I wouldn't put it past him, I was fairly certain he was not under the desk either. Instead, Professor Snape was sitting in front of it.

"What do you think you are doing here Potter?"

"I needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore." I said, trying to back pedal. "I'll try back later."

"You will not. Come here Potter." Snape stood and pointed to the chair he had just vacated. "Sit."

I went, dragging my feet the entire way. I sat on the very edge of the seat. I didn't think lice could survive in the oil rich environment of Snape's hair, but I didn't want to take any chances with the head rest. Snape stood in my foot space, and leaned over me.

"Now what pitiful little problem does precious Potter expect the headmaster to suffer through? Not trying to get out of the detentions you have earned, skipping my class today are you?"

"I need to talk to him about Sirius Black."

Snape's jaw clenched. He swooped down on me so fast I fell off the edge of the chair.

"And what did you have to tell him?" Snape glared down at me as I tried to pick myself up off the floor.

"I'm telling Dumbledore, not you!"

That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Snape grabbed the front of my robes, pulled me to my feet, and shoved me into the chair.  He didn't let go of my robes and with every syllable he shook me around.

"What do you know Potter?"

It was more then a little annoying.  Part of my brain was telling me to keep cool and keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately that part was somewhere near the back, so all it could do was wince as I said "I don't know anything, isn't that why I get such lousy grades in your class?"

Snape looked ready to hit me. The veins in his forehead all stood out and I was worried his skull would explode all over me. Then I heard the skittering feet.

I turned and saw the rat, peeping out at me from beneath Dumbledore's desk. I kicked the chair back wards and dropped to the floor, leaving Snape holding my school robes. I dodged around him and dove for the rat. My hands just barely brushed its tail. I scrambled around the desk. The rat charged towards the bookshelves lining the back of the room. I launched myself at it, kicking up huge folds of the carpet. My hands closed over the squirming gray thing. I had time for one triumphant "Ha!" before Snape grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me to my feet again.

"What do you think these antics will accomplish?" he growled. 

He tried to slap the rat out of my hands. The little voice in the back of my brain, that tells me to do smart things, let out a wail of agony as I kicked Snape in the knee. I think that's the point where the little voice went on strike.

As Snape stumbled, I backed away. I ran to my school robes, which he'd dropped on the floor, and fished out my wand.

"Put it down Potter!" he roared, drawing his own wand.

"It'll run away." I objected.

"The wand Potter! Put the wand down or I will be force to curse you."

"Shut up and listen!" I shouted. "This isn't a rat." I waved the aforementioned animal at him and it screamed bloody murder, well squeaked it anyway.

"Then what is it?" He said, inching closer.

"It's a wizard."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

Slowly I pointed my wand at the rat. "It's an Animagus." 

I focused on the spell Black made me learn and a blue jet of light shot into the rat. It squeaked in protest, but nothing else happened. I held the rat up close to my face, and either Scabbers had re-grown a toe and gotten a dye job or I had done something really stupid.

"It's the wrong rat," I said.  

"Petrificus Totalus," said Snape.


	14. The Double Domino Effect

Disclaimed!

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews people. Please keep them coming, they are my only source of self esteem.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 14: The Double Domino Effect**

            I'd succeeded in beating my credibility to death with a pointy stick. Snape somehow convinced Madam Pomfrey to lock me up in private hospital room, until Professor Dumbledore returned. He took my wand, but fortunately he missed the Marauder's Map. Without the wand it took me twenty minutes of chanting "I solemnly swear I am up to no good" to activate it.

            Hermione, Ron, Fred, and George were waiting outside the door of the hospital wing. Pomfrey was at her desk and Snape was back in Dumbledore's office. He was probably stealing quills. There was no sign of Peter Pettigrew. I searched my room, but found no rat holes. I sat on the bed and stuffed the map in my pocket. I didn't mean to fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes again the sun was gone.

            Frantic shouting echoed under the door, and a moment later it burst open. Hermione ran to the bed and grabbed my arm. She dragged me out of my room through the hospital. Pomfrey and McGonagall were bent over a hospital bed, where a man was thrashing. I recognized his battered robes immediately. McGonagall moved aside and for a moment I had a clear view of Professor Lupin's face. His eyes were rolled back in his head and gray foam bubbled up through his clenched teeth, then we were in the hall.

            Hermione pulled me around in front of her, so she could make an unpleasant amount of eye contact. 

"Harry, just listen to me and do exactly what I say. Trust me. Go to the library. I'll already be there. Tell me exactly what's happened. Tell me one turn. Do you understand?"

            I was about to say "No, of course not!" when a voice echoed through the hall.

            "Potter!" bellowed Snape, as he charged toward me, drawing his wand.

            "Go!" Hermione said, pushing me. I stumbled a few steps, and then I was sprinting. 

            As I rounded the corner I glanced back and saw Snape trip and go flying over Hermione's outstretched foot.

 I think I need to get more exercise, I'm good at sprints, but all that distance running was killing me. I charged into the library, and my mouth dropped open. Hermione was already there and she was sitting calmly at a table, reading her Arithmancy book. She wasn't even sweating.

            "How'd you get here first?"

            "What?" Hermione asked, looking genuinely confused.

            Madam Pince shushed us.

            "What's wrong, Harry? Why aren't you in the hospital?"

            "Why aren't you? I just saw you there!"

            "Explain!" she demanded. 

            So I did. 

            "…and then you said to tell you one turn."

            She seemed stunned beyond words. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the stacks, until we were hidden from the librarian by the walls of books. 

            "I can't believe I'm doing this!" she mumbled. She started tugging at the front of her robes with one hand and put her other arm around my waist, pulling me against her. 

            "Hermione…er…I don't think we should be doing this. We're in the middle of an emergency!" I said. My face was burning up.

            "What?" she said, fishing a tiny hour glass on a chain out of her robes. She looped an end of the chain around my neck and turned the hour glass over. "Hang on tight!" she said. I did.

            The library around us vanished and we were suddenly in the hall way in front of Lupin's office.

            "What happened?"  I asked.

            "Time Turner, we've gone back in time an hour," she said, taking back the chain. "What were you say before?"

            "Nothing."

            CRASH!

            The sound of breaking china came from behind Lupin's door.

            "Alohamora!" Hermione shouted. The door sprang open.

            Lupin leaned against his desk, arms wrapped tight around his stomach. Gray foam oozed from his mouth. He looked at us for half a second before toppling to the floor, amid the shattered remains of a tea set.

            "Wingardium Leviosa!"   Hermione waved her wand, levitating the convulsing professor into the air. We ran for the hospital.

            Half way there Hermione wheezed out a question. "Harry when I told you to go get me in the library, were you with me?"

            "No."

            "Then you can't go there now. Go hide for an hour."

            "Why?"

            "Because you'll disrupt the time stream and I'll spend the rest of my life in Azkaban. Go!"

            I nodded, and Hermione and the floating professor disappeared down the end of the hall.

            I went to the owlery. There wasn't anything I could do to help Professor Lupin so I figured I could kill some time visiting with my owl, Hedwig. I hadn't seen her in a couple of months. As I was walking I started wondering about the other me, the one that was still in the hospital wing. I wondered if he, or rather I, would appear on the Marauder's Map in two places. I took the map out and sat down on the stairs. Yes there I was in the hospital wing, and there was Hermione, going into the hospital and sitting in the library. I wondered when she learned to time travel. Maybe I should have taken Arithmancy too.

            I looked over the map searching for Pettigrew, but there was no sign of him. Then I noticed a dot on the very edge of the map, darting on and off the page at the edge of the forest. Sirius Black was circling the school. So far he was halfway to being proved right, but he never mentioned knowing my parents or agreeing to hide them from Voldemort.

 I thought now was as good a time as any to ask him what the heck was going on. There was one big problem though. Snape still had my wand, and if Black was a stooge of Voldemort's, then I'd be dead. I couldn't think of anyone who would lend me a wand either, as I had been renamed Mad Potter some time in the past few days. I improvised.

            The house elves were willing to lend me a couple of steak knives that I said I needed for a muggle studies class. They seemed to have forgotten my odd behavior the day before. I was really after one of those big, scary looking meat cleavers, but the elves didn't have any. I thought of stopping by Hagrid's hut, to barrow his crossbow, but he'd probably make me go back to the hospital wing. I couldn't risk going back to my dorm for my invisibility cloak, as that's where people would look first. Instead I took one of the secret passages on the map, that lead from the second floor to a hidden door behind the greenhouses. 

             I should have gotten a torch or something, as it was night outside, but then people could find me much more easily. I waited for my eyes to adjust and after about ten minutes the going was not that bad. The moon was nearly full, and everything had a strange blue white cast to it. I had to hold the map right next to my eyes though. Black was still circling slowly. I checked his last location and made some estimates, then I stuffed the map in my pants pocket. If Black was nutters, I didn't want him to have unlimited knowledge of where everyone in the school was at any time. 

            As I got to the edge of the forest I sorely wished I had a coat or at least my school robes, but they were probably still on the Floor of Dumbledore's office. Trousers and a dress shirt and tie are not exactly the wardrobe of choice for late October in England.  The light of the moon seemed to just stop as the trees started, in a wall of absolute darkness. I had to go in though. If someone looked out a window on the north side of the castle they could probably see me. 

            "Hey! Black!" I hissed. "Black I need to talk to you!"

            I tried to keep my voice as low as possible. The giant spiders lived much further into the forest, but I didn't want to run across the intrepid one. I stumbled across roots, and once across something small and moving that hissed at me, but I didn't run into anything big enough to eat me.

            "Black! I know you're out here!" I said a bit more loudly. "I need to talk to you!"

            I heard foot steps then, and very faintly, panting. I saw the outline of the dog in front of me, with the tinniest hint of light reflected off its eyes. It walked up to me and sniffed at my hands. A popping sound filled the air and Black stood over me.

            "You smell…you've touched the rat! Where is he?" Black grabbed my shoulders. "Did you get him? Does Dumbledore know?"  He sounded half way between enraged and hopeful.

            "Er…I did find him, but there are some problems."

            "What? What?" 

He started shaking me around. I don't know why people always do that. I'm not a damn ketchup bottles. Shaking doesn't make the answer come out faster.  

            "He got away down a hole. I went to get Dumbledore but he wasn't in his office, but Snape was, and then I saw a rat under Dumbledore's desk and I caught it, and while I was trying to catch it I sort of kicked Snape, and he takes everything personally. I got the rat, but then the spell didn't work, then I noticed I had the wrong rat. Snape thought I'd gone crazy and they took away my wand and locked me up in the hospital wing."

            "What is Snape doing at the School?" he demanded.

            "He teaches potions. Well he yells at us and deducts points while we attempt to assemble potions in his classroom, he's not much of a teacher, more of a…"

            Black cut off my rambling with another shake. "Peter is still in the school then? Why aren't you looking for him? Why are you out here?"

            "Because you need to explain."

            "Explain what?"

            "Why didn't you tell me you were my godfather? You didn't say you knew my parents!"

            "I…I meant to…I didn't…"

            "FREEZE! STEP AWAY FROM THE BOY AND PUT YOUR HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!"

            As the voice echoed all around us a blinding light flashed on and Black staggered, throwing his arms over his eyes. A red light flew at him and I knocked Black aside just in time. We went tumbling down into a dry creek bed.

            "YOU ARE UNDER ARREST! DO NOT MOVE!" I recognized the voice as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

            Another jet of light flew at us and this time it was Black who pulled me out of its path. We ran. The search light cut through the forest around us. Black pulled us behind a tree and we were hidden for a moment.

            "Give yourself up and go back to the school, Harry. You'll get hurt out here," Black said.

            "No, you haven't told me…"

            The same instinct struck us both. We dived forward just in time to avoid a bolt of blue light. I started to get to my feet but Black pushed me back to the ground.

            "Stay there and wait for the Aurors!" he commanded, and then took off into the woods, down a path I remembered.

            "NO! Don't go that way! Aragog is down there!" I got up and sprinted after him. _Stupid people with long legs!_

            Aragog is the head of a family of giant spiders. My friend Ron and I were nearly eaten by his children last year, so I didn't think Black's choice of direction was particularly smart. I ducked under another red light and tried to hurry. Black disappeared past a clump of trees. 

I don't know how long it took me to catch up with him again, I lost track of the time dodging curses and jumping hurdles. The only good thing about running into the spiders' territory was that most other dangerous magical creatures stayed clear of them.  When I found Black he was a dog again. He was whining terribly. Of course I'd whine too if I was caught in a giant spider web.

The gooey strands had sunk deep into the dog's fir, and his mouth was coated in them. I guess he had tried to chew his way free. He writhed miserably. 

"Hold still!" I hissed, and he obeyed.

I took the steak knives from my pocket and began to cut him loose. House elves sure knew how to keep kitchen wear sharp. I'd freed his head and right front leg when I heard the clicking.

I didn't want to look. The clicking wasn't that close, and if I saw the spider I knew I'd panic. I freed his left leg and he sagged forward. His front feet touched the ground and he started to pull himself forward.

"No! Hold still. You'll just get tangled again!" 

He wasn't listening though. Through the mass of spider webs on his face I heard muffled, strangled barks. The clicking was much closer. Left hind leg free. I felt foot steps shake the ground behind me. Right hind leg free. Black tried to pull away but his tail was still stuck. With a final slash, I cut the last strand holding him. He lunged forward, covered in gooey lines of web, but free. I turned.

The good news: there was only one spider. The bad news: it was the size of rhinoceros.

I racked my brain for ways to get rid of a giant spider with two small steak knives. I wished I smoked then, because if I smoked I'd have a lighter, and since spider webs are flammable I could've at least distracted the creature towering over me, maybe even caused it to combusted. I also wished I went to church, because then I'd know some better prayers. All I could come up with was "_Our father who art in heaven, please don't let a giant spider eat us!"_

This was the one time in my life I wouldn't have minded an appearance from the Chamber of Secret's monster, as it was the thing most feared by the spiders.  A thought occurred to me then and what the heck? It was worth a try.

"LOOK A BASILISK!" I shouted, pointing.

To my amazement to spider actually turned to look behind it. I was very glad Hagrid had taught those horrible monsters English. 

Black and I ran, ducking under the spiders grasping legs. We charged into the under brush, trying to put some plants between us and the arachnid. The spider leapt into the trees, trying to get above us. I couldn't find the path back to the school, and Black kept lagging behind. He struggled to breathe and I could see some of the spider webs were clogging his nose, but if we stopped we were dead. 

Pop!

Black returned to human form, not even missing a step as he ran.  He tore at the webs on his face, gagged, and spit. His face and clothes were still coated in goop, but he seemed able to breathe again.

 "This way!" He steered us down a very unpleasant looking trail.

"Wait! Where are we going?"

"The devil's garden," Black wheezed.

"What's that?"

I got my answer sooner then I expected. We came to the edge of a ravine. It was a twenty foot drop and below us thousands of tentacles snaked and waved around in the fading moon light. I'd never seen that much devil's snare in one place.  Twigs snapped and we whirled around. The spider landed with eerie grace on the path behind us. Its pincers clicked triumphantly in the air. There was no way around it.  The spider charged.

Black grabbed me and stepped off the edge of the ravine.

It was a short fall. I barely had time to shout before we slammed into the writhing mass of vegetation. I lost track of Black. The air was forced out of my lungs, and as the spider jumped after us all I could do was gasp and try to breathe. The spider landed right on top of me. It pincers clicked a foot above my face and one of its legs slid under my back, pushing me up toward its mouth. I tried to find the steak knives but I'd dropped them somewhere in the fall. I threw my arms over my head.

The spider hissed in surprise and I risked looking. A thick tentacle of devil's snare had grabbed the spiders left pincer and pulled at it. The spider slapped the tentacle away with one of its legs, but more rushed up to replace it. The spider struggled, but that only drew more of the plant to it. Unfortunately in all its thrashing and kicking it didn't let go of me and, as the vines looped around it, I was crushed against the spider's underside. More vines joined in, pinning us more tightly together, until I felt my ribs cracking. I couldn't call for help. I had no air. Something popped.

I don't know if I blacked out. Maybe there was so much devil's snare wrapped around me I just couldn't see. After what seemed like forever, the constriction stopped, but something heavy was lying on top of me, so I still couldn't move. To add to the unpleasantness, I was also soaked in some viscous fluid that smelled like vomit mixed with lawn clippings. If that wasn't bad enough, more of the fluid was pouring down on me and it was all I could do to keep my mouth clear of the stuff. If a miracle didn't traipse by sometime soon I was going to drown. 

If there's any situation bound to lead to depressed thoughts of mortality, this had to be it.  I started wondering who would come to my funeral. I didn't think the Dursley's would.  Most of the school would be there, as it would probably end up being a major social event. I bet there would plenty of fake crying, especially from Lavender and Parvati. Just as I was wondering who would give my eulogy, I heard a faint snuffling sound.

I tried to call for help, but it came out more like "HAL!" then I had so much ooze in my mouth I couldn't force any more sound out. He heard me though. It seemed like forever again, but Black finally pulled me out.

For the first few minutes I couldn't do anything but lie there and cough. Black was trying to wipe the slime off my face with his sleeve, but as he was still coated in giant spider webs all he managed to do was get his arm stuck to my forehead, and then pull out most of my left eyebrow getting it free again. 

My glasses had gone missing, but I could see the still form of the dead spider lying next to us.  The devil's snare had cracked the spider's exoskeleton, and its yellow-green guts were pouring out, and pooling around it. Black helped me sit up and I saw that same yellow-green guck was all over me. The sky was turning red at the far eastern edge. I looked at the ground and saw it was covered I bits of bone and gore, but the devil's snare was no where to be found.

"Where's it go?" I asked, between coughs.

"The devil's garden disappears at dawn," Black said. "The plants retreat underground to avoid sunlight. Are you alright Harry?"

I nodded.

"We'd better get moving then. We're too visible here," Black said.

He helped me to my feet, which didn't want to hold me up, and ended up half carrying me. As we crossed the empty devil's garden I saw something shiny, and staggered away from Black to look more closely.  The left lens was cracked, but my glasses were otherwise fine.  Maybe I had finally used up all of my bad luck.

We got into the trees just in time. Black heard them first and dragged us under some shrubbery. Several wizards on brooms landed in the clearing behind us. I saw Shacklebolt among them.  They wandered around for several minutes, inspecting the dead spider. If they found our foot prints we'd be in trouble, but after brief search they took to the air again. Black pulled me to my feet and we started walking. 

Here's a fun fact. Despite the disgusting smell, giant spider guts are very good insulation. I was nice and warm, and as we marched along I fell into a bit of a stupor. I didn't pay much attention to anything until we got to the edge of the forest again, and I recognized the hills behind Hogsmead.  

"Where're we going?" I asked.

"Hogsmead. You're going to go into the Three Broom Sticks tavern and ask Madam Rosmerta to call the school. They'll send someone down to get you."

"No." I said.

Black glared at me. "What do you mean no? You're going to do what I tell you."

 "No!" I was mad and exhausted, so it was very hard to articulate what I meant. I started pointing my finger at him, as if that would clarify things. "You haven't told me yet, and your plans are stupid and you aren't listening!"

"Harry, stop shouting."

"You stop shouting! It's not starting over again! There're rats everywhere and the rooms are all too small and no one believes me! You stop shouting!" I started poking him in the arm as I spoke. I felt dizzy and tried to sit down but Black grabbed my arm.

"We can't stop here. It isn't safe." Black's voice was strained. I guess he was pretty tired too.

"It's not any where safe. I mean it's not safe anywhere."

Black started walking again and as he was still holding onto my arm I went with him.

"There's one place we can go. It's not that far from here."

It was that far, but by the time we got there I was too tired to contradict him. We had circled around the town and climbed up to the base of the mountains on the other side. Black led us to clump of prickly looking bushes.

"Crawl through," he said, "There's a cave on the other side."

I did, and a there was indeed a small cave. I moved to the side and Black crawled through right after me. He began inspecting the cave, looking in the little crevasses and fissures in the uneven walls.  I'm not sure why. While his attention was elsewhere, I took the opportunity to fall asleep.

       When I woke up the sun was fading. Black was curled up next to me as a dog, snoring loudly. The spider guts had dried into an unpleasant and booger like consistency, though on the plus side the smell had vastly diminished. I tried to scrape the stuff off with my finger nails, but it didn't want to go.

 My head hurt badly, I was thirsty, and I was getting cold. It seemed like a fairly reasonable time for Black to wake up too, misery loves company and all that. I put my hand on the dog's shoulder, intending to shake him awake. Unfortunately that particular area was still coated in spider webs. Needless to say, pulling out a big patch of fir is an effective wake up call.  

The dog yelped and jumped to its feet. It gave me a very betrayed look and then, with a pop, turned into Sirius Black.

"What is it?" he asked me as I tried to get the dog fur off of my hand.

"You owe me some answers."


	15. Convicts in a Candystore

Disclaimed

Author's Note: Thank you reviewers! Things are about to get angsty for our heroes, so don't say I didn't warn you!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 15: Convicts in a Candy Store**

"Harry?" Black asked. He sounded almost scared.

"What?" I growled.

"I'm…I'm sorry." Black held out his hands, palms up, like he was begging for more porridge or something.

"Well that's just great! That's perfect then. You're sorry. They're dead and you're sorry."

"I didn't know. Please, you have to understand…"

"I have to?"

"Harry…"

I cut him off. "Just…just shut up for a while!" 

Black crawled to the back of the cave and I crawled to the front. I could just barely see the night sky through the leaves hiding the entrance. In the back of the cave, Black started mumbling to himself, and making funny little wheezing sounds. He may have been crying.

I had a strange tight feeling in my chest and a dark spot in my mind. Every time I went over what Black said, both grew worse. How could you not notice someone spying on you? How could you be friends with someone for ten years and not notice you meant nothing to them? How could anyone be that oblivious, that stupid? How can Black carry on like that? My breath hitched and I drew in more air through clenched teeth. I was certain right then that I hated him. I believed him, but I hated him. 

            I took the Marauder's Map out of my pocket and looked it over. The spider guts hadn't done any damage to it as far as I could tell. Dumbledore wasn't there yet. I tried to focus on the map but Black's funny little noises kept breaking my concentration.

            The questions started running through my brain again. How can he keep that up? If it wasn't for him, I'd know what my parents looked like aside from pictures. I might have sisters and brothers. It's not as if he lost his parents and had to live with the Dursleys. He didn't have to grow up feeling like he was a worthless freak. Until he made a dumb mistake and cost me my family, he got to go to school with my dad and have a normal happy life.

            _How do you know? asked the little voice, back from its inconvenient vacation. __Maybe he lived in a cupboard too, and it's not as if he spent the last twelve years working on his tan._

            I tried to move those thoughts aside, as feeling righteously angry was better then just sitting on my bum in a cave while someone else was awkwardly emoting, but the little voice had been to the gym while it was away. I wasn't going to give in that easily though. I started arguing with myself.

            Some people think it's strange to carry on long conversations in your head, but growing up I did it all the time. The Dursleys weren't exactly interested in what I thought, so I had to work a lot of things out on my own. Somewhere along the way, the little voice developed. Maybe everyone's got a little voice, like that talking cricket in _Pinocchio_. The talking puppet in that movie was very annoying. Of course I never saw the end of it, so maybe it got better. I've gotten off track. Oh yeah, I maintain that internal discussion doesn't mean you're crazy. Only people who talk to themselves out loud are nuts, like Black.

            _Is it really fair to pick on him like that? Interrupted the little voice. _

 He was stupid and they died. He shouldn't be acting as if he's worse off then me.

            _Maybe he is. You don't cry for your parents.  Maybe he misses them more._

            That isn't right! He knew them and I never got a chance. It's his fault that I never got that chance. It isn't fair.

            _Didn't a fellow named Pettigrew, and some chap going by Voldemort have a little something to do with it?_

            I hate it when the little voice outsmarts me. 

            _You're just jealous because Black knew them and you didn't. It's not as if you never made a mistake. Who thought it was Snape after the stone, when it was really Quirrell? And didn't you let Tom Riddle get a hold of your wand in the Chamber of Secrets? He was acting incredibly dodgy and you turned your back on him. Black was trying to fool a brilliant, powerful megalomaniac, and a close friend betrayed him. He failed. It was a fight you couldn't have won either. _

            Alright, fine. Black wasn't abnormally stupid, and he has had it worse then me. Now what?

_You should help him._

With one last internal curse directed at the little voice, I crawled over to Black, who was still mumbling, and had added a bit of rocking back and forth to his display.__

            "...sorry, I'm sorry, my fault, sorry…" he mumbled with his hands clenched in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp.

            "Hey, Black!" I said, trying to get his attention. "What's wrong?"

            He continued to mumble, so I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. He looked up at me confused. "James?"

            I started to correct him, but he latched onto the front of my shirt. "James I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I lost my temper. I just wanted to scare him. I wasn't trying to kill him. James I wasn't trying to kill him. Please James! I'm not like them! I'm not. Please believe me James."

            I wasn't sure what he wanted. "I believe you." I said.

            "Please tell Remus. Tell him I didn't mean to. Tell Remus…Oh God, Snape knows. He'll tell them…"

            "Tell who?" I asked. 

Black's eyes cleared up then. He blinked at me, and let go of my shirt.

"Sorry." Black said. He put his hands on the sides of his skull. "I was just remembering. I was wrong. They should have trusted Remus. He never let James down. Why is it like this?"

Black watched me as if he expected an answer, but I didn't have one, so I just shrugged.

"I forgot," Black started hesitantly, but stumbled into a desperate mumbling rush. "I forgot. There were always Dementors, always picking things out of my head. They took it all. All the people I ever knew and all the things I ever saw or did. In Azkaban it was gone, except for Peter and the dead. The dead never faded. They used to sit with me. They used to stare at me."

He paused for a second, and I nodded. I was starting to get a bit unnerved, but I was even more unnerved about trying to stop him from talking.  It's never good when someone tells you "I see dead people", except in that American ghost movie about that little kid, I forget the name of it. I never saw the end of that one either. The Dursleys always used to kick me out of the living room twenty minutes before a movie ended. I really hate those people. Anyway I was struggling to figure out what Black was talking about.

"I knew," he said, "They weren't really there. I knew that. But all the time they would sit with me and I knew I had to do something. I had to make it right. I knew I had to kill Peter. And when I got the paper, with Scabbers right on the front page, it was clear. Everything was clear and I understood."

His voice started getting scratchy.   

"But now, the rest of it is rushing back in. When I see the castle it reminds me of so much that it drowns me.  When I hear you, I think of everything James ever said to me. I don't know what to do. I remember my birthday fourth year, and that time we all got drunk on fire-whiskey and James threw up on Filch, and when Remus lost his shoes in the dungeon, but there isn't any order. I don't know what to do, with everything turned all around and mixed up. What am I supposed to do?"

He seemed completely lost. I don't usually run into situations where I have to be the mature one. I knew whatever I said was just going to screw things up worse then they already were. I also knew that we couldn't afford for him to get more confused, and there was only one thing he could really focus on.

"We have to get Peter." I said. "He's hiding in the castle."

The dull look in his eyes was replaced by frightening intensity. "I have to kill Peter."

"Right," I said. "We need a new plan."     

            I showed him the Marauder's Map, which he seemed to know quiet a bit about. I didn't want to risk sending him off into another monologue, so I didn't ask how he knew. We went over possible ways and times to sneak into the castle.  The best way seemed to be a tunnel leading from a candy store in Hogsmead, called Honeydukes, to a corridor on the third floor of the school. When Dumbledore returned, we would go through the tunnel, and straight to his office and then explain everything. Black and I agreed that a simple plan was best.

            Black was describing Honeydukes to me, but suddenly trailed off, eye's glued to the map.

            "What is it?" I asked.

            "Remus?" he asked.

            "Hu?" I said.

            Black waved me over, his filthy finger nail pointing to the area labeled "Hospital Wing." There were only two people in it. Madam Pomfrey, and Remus Lupin.

             "Harry, who is that?" he said pointing at Lupin,

            "That's Professor Lupin, the defense teacher." I recalled then that Dumbledore said they used to be close friends.

            "What happened to him?"

            "He had some kind of seizure yesterday. Hermione and I found him and brought him to the hospital." I paused. Hermione probably didn't want me to tell people she could time travel, so I decided to leave that part out.

            "He had a seizure? What kind? How?"

            "He was shaking and gray foam was coming out of his mouth."

            "Gray? Are you sure?" 

I nodded. "Why? What's going on?"

"Poison."

"What? Professor Lupin's everyone's favorite teacher. Who would want to poison…" I trailed off. "Did he know Peter was an Animagus rat?"

Black nodded. "We're going in tonight."  

            We decided to wait until most of the castle was asleep. If Dumbledore wasn't back, when we got there, we would send him an owl. As the evening wore on I grew bored and as the Map was the only source on entertainment, I spent the time spying on people I knew. Seamus Finnegan was in the 3rd year Gryffindor dorm, looking through my wardrobe. I'd have to yell at him when I got back to school. Hermione and Ron were in the library. Professor McGonagall was in the Great Hall with Hagrid and Filch. Movement at the edge of the map caught my eye. Hundreds of dots were circling the gates of the school, but they flickered on and off the page, and none of them were named.

            "What do you think those are?" I asked Black.

            "The dementors are back," he said, leaning over my shoulder.

            "They can't get into the tunnel can they?" I asked.

            "They could if they knew it was there. We'll have to be careful."

            "Careful? We're going to…OW!"

            Black lunged forward and grabbed the map away. He knocked me sprawling on the ground, but didn't notice.

            "What was…?" I didn't get even half my sentence out before Black growled "Pettigrew."

            He dropped the map, and I picked it up. A dot labeled Peter Pettigrew was sitting in the kitchens.

            "We're going now." Black said. Without a backward glance he crawled out of the cave. 

             The second he was clear of the brush hiding the mouth of the cave, Black turned into a dog and tore down the hill. I don't know where he got the energy for that sprint, since neither of us had eaten in the last twenty four hours, and I'm even more surprised I could catch up to him. The whole way to the town I was sweating from the exercise, and this was reconstituting the spider guts to a disgusting degree, but as the first buildings came into view I went cold all over.

            It occurred to me then, that if the dementors were back at Hogwarts, then perhaps they were in other, near by areas as well. Unfortunately this thought occurred only three seconds before we ran into the first dementor. It drifted out into our path with its arms outstretched, almost as if it expected a hug.  Black whined and skidded in the dirt, but the creature ignored him, and glided straight towards me. I darted left, ducking.

            I got under its attempted grab, but as I passed its fingers brushed against the back of my neck, and all I could see was white fog. I heard screaming echoing in my brain. I didn't stop running though, which made me rather proud, until I ran into the side of a building that the fog had obscured.

            My head rang and for a second I couldn't remember where I was. Then cold hands grabbed me under arms. I tried to pull away.

            "Stop damn it!" hissed a voice in my ear.

             I realized it was Black. He'd turned back into a human and was trying to put me on my feet. As we started running again I looked back, and wished I hadn't. The dementor that had touched me floated after us, along with a football team worth of its friends. 

            "How much further?" I asked Black.

            "Here!"

            Black sped up even more. One leap and he was on the porch in front of the store. With a second leap he crashed through the heavily decorated front window, knocking over display racks and sending glass and brightly colored candy flying in every direction. I hopped through after him, narrowly avoiding the shards still stuck in the sill. The dementors floated in right behind me.  I grabbed an oversized novelty lollypop and threw it at the lead dementor, but it was undeterred by sugary snack food.  The screaming rang through my head, but moving made it less intense. Black went straight to the back of the store and kicked open a door marked "Off Limits." 

The stair case started so suddenly I missed the first step, and would have fallen if I hadn't run into Black.  As we got to the bottom I heard real screaming upstairs. I guess someone had heard us break in and came to investigate. Black desperately shoved crates around, clawing at the floor boards.

            "There's a trap door. Help me look!"

            I dropped to the ground, running my hands over the boards, but there was nothing to find. I looked over my shoulder and saw the first of the dementors glide down the steps. What if they remodeled the floor since the map was built? My nails dug into a crevice then and I pulled up as hard as I could. I bent back the finger nails on my left hand, and nearly lost my grip, but Black caught the door as it started to slip.

            "You first!" Black said, pointing into the dark empty space.

 I couldn't see anything down there. I hesitated, and in that instant's pause it caught me. The hands were around my neck before I could even consider dodging. The thing picked me up easily and turned me around so we were face to face, only it didn't have a face. All it had was a dark gapping hole in the slimy blue gray flesh of its head. Its foul breath blew across my face as it leaned towards me.

            I wanted the white fog to come back. I didn't want to see what it was doing, but everything remained terribly clear. I couldn't remember anything worse then this. It let go with one hand ran its fingers across my lips. I couldn't stop my self from screaming.

            Hands locked onto my ankles and pulled. The slimy fingers lost their grip. I couldn't bring my hands up in time and my chin slammed against the floor. Something cracked. My neck felt broken, but before I could think about anything I was dragged through the trap door. It shut with a snap right after, and I couldn't see anything.

            Black pulled me to my feet. I had trouble holding my head up straight and my jaw was killing me.

            "Harry we have to hurry. There are stairs right ahead of us. Go as quick as you can and don't let go of my arm."

            I heard the door above us creak. We ran.


	16. Vendettas

Disclaimed

Author's note: Thanks everyone who reviewed!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 16: Vendettas**

            The stairs seemed to twist down for miles, and the entire way I heard them breathing. The sound echoed off the narrow walls till even our pounding foot steps were drowned out. After an eternity, the steps wore into a gentle downward slope, and the walls and ceiling grew closer. I could reach both walls at the same time, and the ceiling brushed the top of my head. I hoped the Dementors would have trouble running stooped over, but the reverberating sound of their breathing only drew closer.

            Black stopped for a moment and pushed me around in front of him.

            "The tunnel will slope up soon." He said. "It's a straight line to Hogwarts from there. If you get a bit ahead of me don't worry. I'll catch up."

            His "I'll catch up" didn't sound very convincing though. I groped about till I found his arm and pulled him along after me, to make sure he didn't try anything stupidly heroic. As he said, the tunnel began to slope up. The sound of the Dementors began to fade.  The slope grew so steep it was nearly a slide, and I had to brace my hands on the wall to make sure I didn't slip and fall back down into the midst of those things. I could hear Black shuffling after me. I reached the top of the tunnel and felt around, but it just stopped. There wasn't any kind of door or hinge.

            "Black! How do we get out?" Stabbing pains shot through my neck with every word, and my jaw was making funny clicking sounds.

            "You have to tap the roof with your wand…"

            I strongly wanted to punch him.

            "And if I haven't got any?" I growled.

            Black didn't answer. Frustrated, I began to tap at the stone above me with my fingers. There was a loud grating sound and the light poured over my face. A circular hole opened in the stone above me and I scrambled up through it. I looked about and realized I had been inside the hallow statue of a rather hump-backed witch. I climbed down to the floor and Black dropped down next to me a second later.

            I took the map from my pocket and checked it again. Pettigrew was moving, headed towards the Great Hall. Black and I crept along. I didn't have a watch on but I thought it was about seven thirty or eight, so most of the students would be on their way back from dinner. Using the map we completely avoided running into anyone, until we passed the hospital wing. 

A dot labeled Minerva McGonagall came out of her office from behind us, and another labeled Severus Snape was already closing in from the other direction. Having no other options, we ducked into half opened door of the hospital. Madam Pomfrey was in her office, the door of which hung open. She was facing away from us, and we managed to hurry past without notice.  I searched desperately for a good hiding spot, as the hospital seemed to be Snape and McGonagall's intended destination, only to notice that Black was wandering away with a very dazed look on his face. 

Only one bed in the long room was occupied, and Black headed straight towards it. I tried to indicate, through pantomime, that wandering where he could easily be seen was a bad idea, and that hiding behind the curtains would be smarter, but Black seemed determined not to understand.  He walked to the bedside, and stared down at its unconscious occupant. The Defense against the Dark Arts teacher's face was drawn and gray, but that was normal for him. The raised red lines running down his neck and around his mouth were not.  His breathing was nearly inaudible. Black leaned over the bed and, in attempt to give me a heart attack no doubt, shook Professor Lupin's shoulder.

Lupin didn't wake up, which worried me, but not half as much as Blacks flight from reality. The time for miming had passed, and the time of shin kicking had arrived.

Black grunted in surprise, but sound from the door way prevented him from complaining.

"…on my way to see how Remus is fairing."

Instead of a response there was a strained silence. Black ducked under an empty bed and I ducked under Professor Lupin's. A second later two pairs of feet entered the hospital, and Madam Pomfrey hurried out of her office to meet them.

"How is he Poppy? Any change?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"None I'm afraid. Granger brought him in only just in time. I was barely able to stop him dieing. If he wakes up at all it will be a minor miracle. Do we have any idea who did this?" Pomfrey asked.

"The only suspect so far is Black. Lupin was the only one left. He may have been as much a target as Harry, but we never thought…"

"I have brought the potion, in case he regains consciousness," Snape interrupted. "I would remind you that you have only one hour and twelve minutes before it transforms. I do need time to secure the hospital."

"Of course Professor Snape," said Madam Pomfrey, sounding more then a little strained.

The three of them shuffled around for a moment, and then Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey's feet walked out the door. It swung shut behind them.  Snape walked to the end of Lupin's bed. I thought maybe I should hold my breath, but that just makes me need to yawn. Of course when I thought about needing to yawn I immediately really did need to. _Stupid traitorous lungs! If you even try, I'll start smoking! Unfiltered! That thought seemed to get them in line._

I peeked out at the bed next to mine. I could just see Black's hand and one of his eyes looking back at me from beneath the over hanging sheet. Snape remained standing where he was. As quietly as possible I unfolded the map to check on Pettigrew. He was moving up the stairs, towards the library. Hermione and Ron were just leaving there.

"This is your last chance," said Snape. After a moment of panic I realized he was talking to Professor Lupin. 

 Lupin, of course, didn't answer. Snape's feet went to the bed side table and I heard a china cup clink as it was set down. Snape's feet moved back to the end of the bed. He shouted something in incomprehensible Latin. A blinding light, like a camera flash, filled the room. It faded slowly, leaving only a faint glowing ring on the stone floor around Lupin's bed, and its side table. Snape mumbled something else and smoke rushed up from the floor in thick parallel lines, just inside the glowing ring. After a few seconds the smoke condensed into solid iron. I started to think I had picked the worst bed to hide under. 

Snape walked up to the bars. He grunted slightly as he tried to rattle them.  They sounded annoyingly solid to me. Snape turned and walked to the door.  I thought of calling him back to let me out, and then realized how stupid that would be. He went out and locked the doors behind him. Black was at the bars a second later, trying to pull them loose and cursing like a maniac. 

I tried to get out of under the bed but the bars were too close. I checked the map again. Hermione, Ron and Pettigrew were together in the corridor in front of the library. I wished very hard that I had warned them about Scabbers.

"Black! Don't worry about me." I held the map out through the bars. "Go get Pettigrew."

Black looked close to panic. "Harry you don't understand. If he wakes up while you're in there…"

He looked as if he'd been hit upside the head.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I have an idea." He turned and ran to Madam Pomfrey's office. Ten minutes later he was back with a large bottle of bright red potion.

"Try not to let any of this touch you," he said, opening the bottle.

"Why?" I asked as he poured it out on the floor, and it started to flow towards me.

"It's wound cleaning potion. It eats away anything that isn't alive, except for its specially charmed bottle anyway."

As he spoke the red stuff melted into the floor and the bottom of the bars attached there. It also soaked into an end of Professor Lupin's blanket that was touching the floor, and started to dissolve that. Then it flowed against the metal legs of the bed frame on the right side. It melted the bed frame much faster then it melted the bars. Black should never have ideas.

 With an unpleasant creak the bed tilted, and I was forced into the small triangular space created by the remains of the frame and the left legs. There was a dull thumping sound and a splash as Professor Lupin rolled off the bed, into the puddle of potion around the bars. Black tried to reach through the bars and lift up the edge of the bed, but it melted away in his hands. He cursed again.

The potion continued to spread across the floor, and I pressed against the opposite side of the little cage. I looked at the map in my hands. Pettigrew, Ron and Hermione were going outside. As I watched they walked up to the Whomping willow, which had attempted to smash in Ron and my skulls last year. They disappeared for a moment, and then I saw them in a tunnel. It led right off the edge of the map, back towards Hogsmead. The tilted bed creaked again, bringing me back to my current situation. 

"Black! Come get the map before it melts!" I yelled. Black ran around to my side and I shoved the Marauder's Map into his hands. He stuffed it in the pocket of his robe. My right foot felt suddenly cold and I looked back in horror to see the potion had dissolved most of my shoes and socks. I did a very cramped push up to keep the rest of my clothes out of the stuff. My arms burned and shook. I thought the potion would at least sting, but as it washed over my fingers and toes it only felt slightly warm. It did manage to clean the dried spider guts off my hands though. The potion flowed under me, with out touching my clothes and I started thinking things were going to work out alright. Then the potion ate away the left legs of the bed.

In the good news category, the bars dissolved before the floor did, so Black was able to get Professor Lupin and my self safely away from that area, before the hole formed. Looking over the edge you could see into the potions classroom. Of course I had more pressing things to worry about. The potion had gotten onto my pants and they were rapidly turning into short shorts. I sprinted over to the supply cabinet and found a set of dark blue pajamas that almost looked like real clothes, if you were far away and squinting. The only foot wear in my size was a pair of light pink slippers with teddy bears on them. I hate having small feet. 

When I returned from my dressing expedition, Black had taken off his robe and wrapped the still unconscious professor in it. Lupin's fall didn't seem to have harmed him, except for his pajamas.  Black carried him to the private room where I had been quarantined. He left Lupin in there and shoved a chair under the door knob. Black's trousers had holes in the knees, but he had other wise escaped the potion.

"Where is Pettigrew?" he asked me.

"He and Ron and Hermione went through a tunnel under the Whomping willow. They went off the map," I said.

There was a sudden clatter from the hole in the floor. I looked over the edge.

"Potter!" roared Professor Snape, glaring up at me.

Black grabbed the back of my pajamas and tugged me backwards, just in time to avoid the stunning curse Snape fired at me. We ran again. It wasn't until we were crouching behind the green house that we discovered our new problem.

"Harry, is there anyone following us?" Black asked.

"What?"

"Check the map," Black hissed urgently.

"I gave it to you!"

Black looked as if he was about to argue, but then he slapped himself in the forehead.

"It's back in the hospital with Remus. We can't go back for it. It doesn't matter. That tunnel only goes to one place."

"Where?"

"The Shrieking Shack."

We sprinted out across the dark lawn toward the writhing form of the Whomping Willow. No one fired a curse at us, so I guess that proved no one was following. I was wondering how we were going to get under the flailing branches of the possessed tree, when a dark orange blur passed us. The tree froze, and as we got close I could see Hermione's cat standing on a large knot on the trunk. It mewed loudly, and then darted down a hole, that was almost invisible among the twisted roots. Black followed as if this were completely normal. I followed as if it wasn't, so he got a bit ahead of me in the low earthen tunnel.

It was completely dark, and neither of us had had time to grab a torch. I was finding my way by feeling the walls. I don't know how Black was handling this. 

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was about to call out a warning to Black when something tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled. There was a sound, like canned whipped-cream spraying into a dish, and then ropes were cocooning me. I got out one strangled cry before they covered my face and gagged me. I tipped over and fell on my face. This didn't do my injured jaw and neck any good. A long fingered hand grabbed my shoulder and rolled me onto my back.

"Harry?" Black called back. "Harry, are you alright?"

I tried to yell and warn him, but a wand pressed against my throat, and I heard whispering. Then I couldn't speak at all. 

"Help!" My voice called from someone else's mouth. "There's a hole. My foot's gotten stuck."

I heard Black running towards me. I tried to roll away from my captor, but he just put a hand down in the center of my chest so I couldn't get any leverage. Black's foot steps were very close.

"Sirius please hurry!" my captor called.

I heard Black skid to a stop and I would have cheered if I had my voice back. I've never called him Sirius.  I didn't know what Black could do though. The tunnel was so narrow that there was no room to dodge if a curse was fired. But instead of cursing, my captor said "Lumos."

A soft blue light filled the tunnel and I looked up at the sneering, sallow face of the Potions Professor. His focus was completely on Black.

"How nice to see you again," Snape said with my voice.

Black didn't transform, but the low growl coming from his throat might just as well have been from a dog.  He stalked toward Snape with a crazed look in his eyes that I'd only ever seen him use regarding Pettigrew.

"I'd stop there, were I you," Snape continued in his own voice.

Farther down the tunnel I heard Hermione's cat yowl in agony, but the two men seemed deaf to it. I wiggled around trying to get their attention, but I was invisible to them.  Black stopped a few feet from Snape, still growling. 

"It's not that I haven't come to expect monumental stupidity from you Black, but why did you return?" Snape asked. "Even if you've gained the use of Potter, you'd never be able to get to Dumbledore.  You will not bring the Dark Lord back."

"How dare you," Black choked out. "I'll kill you…"

The rest of their conversation was lost to me. In the small sphere of light created by Snape's wand I saw the rat creeping forward, from behind Black. The rat and I looked each other in the eye. I didn't know rats could smile.

Black lunged at Snape, and a red light blasted Black in the chest. He slammed into the side of the tunnel and slumped to the ground, limp. Snape walked by the rat without even glancing at it. I thrashed around but Snape wouldn't turn. Snape kicked Black in the ribs, maybe to check if he was awake, maybe for spite. It didn't matter.

The rat crept slowly into the center of the tunnel. With a soft pop it was replaced by a man. Snape turned then, but it was too late.

"Stupefy!" cried Peter Pettigrew in a high squeaky voice.

 After a brief flash of red, there was no light.


	17. Hang Together

Disclaimed

Author's note:  Please tell me what you think! Reviews are the breakfast of champions.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 17: Hang Together**

            My glasses lay on the floor four feet below me. I could just barley see them. There was a lantern burning in the corner of the room, but Pettigrew had closed the shutters almost entirely, after he finished hanging us.  I guess he was worried some passersby would see it and interfere. I tried to feel hopeful about that, but then again it's hard to feel hopeful when somebody is slowly strangling right next to you.

 Ron, Hermione, Snape, and I had all received the same treatment. Our arms were tied behind our backs, and we were hung by our ankles from a beam in the ceiling. Pettigrew used a levitation spell to get us up there, but after we were tied, he let gravity do all the work. Black got some special attention I'm certain he didn't want. 

Pettigrew had tied a rope around Black's ankles and ran it over a ceiling beam, as he had with the rest of us, but instead of securing the rope to the beam, he ran it back down, and tied it to Black's wrists, behind his back. Pettigrew tied a second shorter rope around Black's neck, and then tied that one to the beam also.  He took out a wand, I think it was Ron's, and tapped Black with it.

            "Enervate."  

            I expected Black to rant and threaten, but he only choked desperately. He thrashed around, swinging back and forth in the air, as the ropes creaked ominously. Pettigrew only stood watching. I couldn't see his face, but I'd bet twenty galleons he was smiling.  I didn't know what to do. I'd scream or beg, but I couldn't think of anything to say. I tugged at the ropes binding my hands but they didn't give at all. Fortunately someone kept their head. 

            "Pull down with your arms!" shrieked Hermione. "Mr. Black, pull the rope around your wrists down!"

Then I saw what Hermione had figured out. Only by pulling as hard as he could on the rope around his wrists, could he pull his feet up, and take his weight off the other rope around his neck. If he transformed into a dog, he wouldn't be able to hold himself up at all. Pettigrew definitely knew what he was doing.

            Black understood her. His struggles became more organized. His back arched and he pulled the rope around his wrists down towards his head. His elbows were almost even with his shoulders. His whole body shook with effort, but the rope around his ankles grew taught, and he took a great wheezing gasp of air. I can only imagine how hard that must have been, physically. To do a reverse, backwards, upside down, pull up, while all the blood is rushing to your head, seemed impossible to me. However he managed to do it, I knew he would never be able to keep it up. I supposed it wasn't important.  I didn't expect Pettigrew to let us live very long anyway.

            "Not that this isn't entirely entertaining," Snape said, "But you will be explaining this idiocy sometime soon?" 

            Snape spoke in a completely calm, even, and slightly bored voice, as if he was quite frequently stunned, tied up, and suspended from the ceiling. Maybe he was, but I don't want to think about his personal life.

            "Shut up!" ordered Pettigrew, in a cracking voice. "You'll talk when I tell you to talk."

            "That is entirely unlikely," Snape said coolly.

            Pettigrew stormed up to him, but as he was short and not terrible heavy, his storming was less then impressive.

            "You think I'm afraid of you?" Pettigrew challenge.

            "I don't think you're intelligent enough to be properly afraid of me, Pettigrew. What you may wish to think over is this; I am a professor at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall knows that I was going to investigate this building, as we had reason to believe Black was hiding here. I left instructions to send Aurors, if I did not return with in the hour. Do you have a watch on you Pettigrew?"

            "You didn't tell anyone you were coming," Pettigrew answered more confidently. "You wanted to catch Black yourself."

            Snape only hung, in smug silence.

            "You can't fool me, Snape. I've been watching you."

            "Have you?"

            "Tell me where he is and I'll let you live." Pettigrew said in a low voice.  I don't know why he bothered. We were hung so close together all of us heard what he said.

            "Where who is?" Snape asked, sounding completely uninterested.

            "Where is the Dark Lord? How do I find him?" 

            Snape laughed. It was almost as if the sound coming out of his mouth was making the room colder. And the even in the dark I could see his expression didn't change. He stopped suddenly, but the echoes bounced around the room as he addressed Pettigrew's question. "His body was destroyed. He's nowhere and everywhere Pettigrew."

            "You're lying! You know something. You knew he was with Quirrell two years ago, and you know where he is now. Tell me!"

            "And how am I supposed to know such things? I'm but a humble school teacher." 

            "Stop playing games!" Pettigrew squeaked angrily.  He pushed Snape's left shoulder and spun him around. He grabbed Snape's bound arms and tore open his sleeve. He looked disappointedly at Snape's right forearm.

            "Oh right, his left…" Pettigrew mumbled, tearing off the sleeve on Snape's left arm. He made a funny little huffing noise that seemed to be an "I thought so." As he turned Snape back around, I got a look at his left arm. He had a faint red tattoo of skull with a snake in its mouth.

            As he was turned Black saw the tattoo as well, and went into a convulsion of cursing so loud they must have heard him in Paris. To my surprise the vocal barrage was directed at Snape instead of Pettigrew. For a moment Black lost his hold on the rope, and he started strangling again. He slowly and painfully pulled himself back up, but he did not stop shouting. 

            "YOU #$@^ING TRAITOROUS @#%@&! YOU WERE WORKING FOR HIM ALL ALONG! YOU KNEW HE WAS A %$#&ING  DEATH EATER! YOU @#%@% %^&#*&!  %($#@^%&&*$#!  &%%^%%&$$ YOUR MOTHER! GOD DAMN YOU! YOU FILTHY…" 

            Half of the words coming out of Black's mouth I didn't even understand. I wasn't sure if it was his being half strangled, or his cosmopolitan knowledge of profanity. I hoped I wasn't that sheltered. 

"Silencio," said Pettigrew and Black's voice disappeared, but his mouth still moved in an endless string of curses.

            "This is your last chance Snape. Where is the Dark Lord?"

            "Beyond your reach, fool." Snape said simply.

            Pettigrew waved the wand and a hood appeared over Snape's head. With a frustrated noise Pettigrew pushed him and sent him spinning like a crazed top. I wondered if Snape would throw up inside the hood. That would be very unpleasant. Even through the hood I heard his next statement very clearly.

            "One thousand points from Gryffindor."

            Pettigrew ignored him and walked up to me. He stared at me for a bit. I was really hopping he wasn't going to say something like "You look just like James." But I doubted anything like that would have occurred to him. Being hung upside down had caused my face to swell up, and I was fairly certain I looked more like Dudley Dursley then I did my father. 

            "I don't have anything against you personally Harry," Pettigrew started off in an attempt at a calm voice. "I didn't want you involved in all this. Black shouldn't have dragged you in. Tell me who else knows about me. Tell me the names of all the people you told and I'll let you and Ron and Hermione go." 

            "I tell you and we walk away? Somehow I don't believe you."

            "I'm not a bad person. I'm just in a bad situation. I don't want to have to hurt anyone.  If you tell me I'll just erase your memories and let you go back to the school. It will be like it never happened." Pettigrew's voice strained as he tried to sound honest.

            "And what happens to Black?"

            "He shouldn't have come after me."

            "You expect me to just walk off and let you murder him?"

            "Sirius Black or you and your friends. The decision shouldn't be that hard."

            "You're going to kill us all anyway."

            "This is your last chance Harry. You're bringing this on yourself."  I noticed quite clearly that he hadn't denied my last statement. 

            "Last chance?" I asked, playing dumb.  

            "Who knows about me?" Pettigrew's voice was clearly showing anger then. He seemed rattled. I thought maybe if I pushed him enough he'd make a mistake, or let something slip that I could use.  Maybe he'd just yell at me. The longer he talked, the more chance we had of being rescued.

            "I told Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic and the Queen of England." I said smugly.

"Crucio!" Pettigrew bellowed.

I have a hard time describing what that curse did to me. It felt as if my bones had turned to molten lava and were trying to flow out through my skin. When I was four I put a paper clip into the electrical outlet in the Dursley's kitchen. That was picnic compared to this. I wasn't aware of what was going on around me until it stopped. I hung there, soaked in sweat. I heard people sobbing. I recognized Hermione's voice. Someone else was sobbing too, but I didn't think Ron would cry. As I tried to catch my breath I realized I was making most of that noise. My throat hurt. I guess I had been screaming as well. Pettigrew pointed the wand at me, and I flinched.

"Who did you tell?"

My eyes darted to the people around me. Black had slipped again and was fighting to regain his hold on the rope. Hermione looked at me with wide, tear filled eyes. Ron's face was red and he was cursing almost as loudly as Black had been earlier, but with far more repeats. His mother would wash out his mouth. Snape still had a hood covering his face, but for some reason I was sure his attention was on me.  Pettigrew held the wand an inch away from my forehead. 

I hadn't told anyone. No one was coming. No one would save me. This was going to be bad. What should I say? What was it going to gain me? I couldn't move. I couldn't save them. What was the point? What should I do?

 _Give him hell,_ said the little voice. 

I guess that was the only answer I would get. I swallowed and cleared my throat. 

            "I made an announcement on the B.B.C. and I took out an ad in the Daly Prophet," I said.

            "Crucio!"

            I was hopping it would hurt less the second time, like getting used to hot water, but the opposite seemed true. It was so much worse I prayed I would die. I wished my heart would just explode and put a stop to it. I felt as if I were made of glass that was cracking apart. I knew I was screaming.

            When he let up again I wasn't sure where I was. There were voices floating in my head.

            "No more please! You'll kill him! Please I'll do anything you want, just stop!"

            "YOU BASTARD, I'LL KILL YOU! IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN, I'LL TEAR OFF YOU FACE WITH MY BARE HANDS!" 

            Ron and Hermione, they were yelling. They were trying to help. I struggled to concentrate.

            "I…I…," I took a gulp of air. Pettigrew looked at me expectantly.

"I…put up…Billboards…from here to Manchester."

            Pettigrew raised his wand.

            "Cru…"

            "PING! PING! PING!"

            The tiny sound cut him off. His forehead wrinkled as if he were thinking very hard. Then he smiled. He raised his stolen wand above his head and called out an incantation that I have no delusions of being able to repeat. A strange noise echoed through the room. It sounded as if someone had struck a monstrous gong a great distance away. Pettigrew walked to the door, but stopped and looked back at us all before leaving.

            "I'll be back to untie you later. I doubt you'll recognize me."

            With that he was gone.

            "What…was that…'ping' sound?" I asked. I was still struggling to breathe.

            "I think it's some kind of alarm he set up in the tunnel," Ron said. "It went off right after he tied us up, and then he went down the tunnel and came back with you.  Someone's coming to help us!"  

            "But they'll just run into Pettigrew and be caught as well," Hermione said. "What was that spell he cast?"

            "Dementors," Snape said. His voice was muffled by the hood, and I thought he sounded a bit shaky as he spoke. "It was a summons. All the Dementors in the area will be headed this way."

            I looked to Black for conformation, and his defeated expression gave it. He was mouthing something but I couldn't understand what. He shook his head, and then closed his eyes.

            "POP!"

            "NOOOOO!" I couldn't think of anything else to say.

            Black was replaced by a huge black dog. The ropes creaked. The dog kicked and flailed wildly, and the ropes slid from its paws. The dog swung sickeningly in mid air and there was a loud snapping sound as all of the animals considerable weight was put on the rope around its neck. Its legs twitched weakly. 

There was another pop, and Black was a man again, but his toes were still a few inches above the floor. His hands went to the rope around his neck, which had tightened as the dog's weight had shifted around. His eyes bugged out of his head and he clawed at the knots in the rope, but his movements were jerky and uncoordinated.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," Hermione chanted.

            "What's going on?" called Snape.

            None of us bothered to answer him. Black's feet kicked wildly. His fingers went from clawing at the knots to desperately pull at the rope around his neck, but it was no help. He wasn't going to make it.

            I looked around, but there was nothing in the dimly lit room that could help.  I looked up at my feet. The knot around my ankles, there was something about it.  It seemed almost to glow. I knew if I could get to it I could get loose. It was a simple knot. I could figure it out.  I had to get to it. 

My calves twinged painfully and the muscles in my stomach felt as if they were about to tear free of my skeleton. My back hurt and my lungs burned, but with agonizing slowness I sat up.  It wasn't as bad as that curse.  All I could hear was my own strained breathing. I could feel the others watching me. With a gasp that was half way to a sob I forced my spine to bend the last few inches. My chin came just past my knees. The rope connecting my ankles to the beam was only a foot farther.

            _You know you can do this, the little voice said. _Feel pain later, there's only a little bit more.__

            I took another sobbing gasp of air, and bent my knees out to the sides. It stopped some of the pain in my back, but now the muscles in my thighs and calves were going insane, and I was certain I was about to get the worlds largest charley-horse. But every aching second, the rope got closer. Sweat and tears were streaming down my face in equal quantities when I finally got my face even with my ankles, and sunk my teeth into the knot.

            Just as I had thought, it was a simple knot. I don't know how I did it after that. My neck ached from the fall in Honeydukes and my jaw felt as if it were stuck full of pins every time I grabbed the knot with my teeth, and every muscle in my body still shook from the curse. Somehow I tugged it loose. Then I fell.

            It was a long drop, but I almost managed to get my feet under me before I landed. I got the wind knocked out of me, but I didn't knock myself unconscious. The room was so cold. As I rolled over on my stomach and wheezed I heard a strange rattling noise. I looked towards the boarded-up window and saw long thin fingers slide under the edge. The dementors had arrived.

It felt as if I had pulled every single muscle in my body as I sat up. The next time I fold myself in half, I've got to remember to stretch first. I pulled my bound wrists under my legs and with another painful series of contortions, I got them over my feet, and around in front of me. The knots were more complicated. I didn't think I could get them loose with just my teeth. I stumbled to my feet and went to Black. 

His struggles had reduced to a weak twitching. I could barely reach the rope around his neck. I tried to untie the knots, but there was too much weight on them, and the rope around my own wrists had significantly reduced my dexterity. It was no good. I looked down at Blacks twitching feet, and inspiration struck me upside the head.

Just call me Harry Potter, the heroic human foot stool. It has a better ring to it then the boy-who-lived. I got down on my hands and knees.  I elbowed him in the shins and Black caught on right away. He stepped onto my back. Despite being skeletally thin he was surprisingly heavy. No longer strangling, he could untie himself.  It still took him forever. When he finally got loose, he fell backwards onto the floor and lay there gasping. 

I wanted nothing more then to pass out. It was cold and everything hurt and I was tired, but then Ron cleared his throat.

"Little help?" he asked. 

Black got up and pulled me to my feet. I was shaking badly and I couldn't stand up all the way. I shuffled over to Ron in a very like Igor fashion, and started untying his arms, while Black, who could actually reach that high, untied his feet. The window rattled ominously as Black lowered Ron to the floor. More dementors were pulling at the boards on the window. Wormlike fingers wiggled through every conceivable space. There must have been twenty of them at that window alone. 

Black freed Hermione on his own, while Ron got the ropes off my wrists. Black set Hermione on the floor.

"Let's go," he said.

"We have to get Snape." As I said that one of the boards came loose, and arms snaked through. 

"He's not worth it," Black said simply, pushing us toward the door.

"We can't just leave him!" Hermione said. She was still crying.

"He's a Death Eater," Ron said, he seemed to be siding with Black. 

My head was starting to get foggy, and I was having trouble understanding what they were getting at. A Death Eater, it sounded like a description for stupid people who eat the toadstools they find in their back yards. That's probably not what he meant though.  They were missing the point anyway.

"We can't leave him," I said.

"There's no time Harry," Black said. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. I kicked him in the shin, and pulled away.

"Fine, you run off. I'll untie him my self." I shuffled back over to Snape. I stretched but couldn't reach the rope around his ankles. Another board gave way. It fell to the floor with a resounding thump. One dementor probably could have gotten through the space, but none of them pulled their arms out of the way. I guess there weren't enough souls to go around.

"Damn it!" Black cursed. He grabbed me around the waist and tried to carry me away, but I grabbed onto Snape's arm. The tug of war that ensued was brief, but stupid. My arms gave out pretty quick, and Snape swung out of my grasp. As I let go Black stumbled and over balanced, and as he was steadying himself, Snape swung back like an evil piñata, and knocked Black sprawling. I was dropped on the floor.  

Ron and Hermione pulled me to my feet. I gave Ron a pleading look. He made a frustrated noise and started untying Snape's ankles. Black also made a frustrated noise and came over to help. Just as we got him down, another board popped free. We ran for the door.

 Hermione led Snape along, untying his hands as we went.  Black led us down a staircase. I didn't feel any warmer as we went. We got to the ground floor and rushed to the tunnel that led back to Hogwarts. Pettigrew was probably in there, but I don't think anyone would argue that he was the lesser of two evils. I looked back and saw shadowy figures gliding through the hall towards us. It was so cold. I couldn't remember what I was doing. It was foggy again. Hands grabbed my arm and dragged me underground. 


	18. Deadly Coincidence

Disclaimed.

P.S. I don't own The Crocodile Hunter, nor do I want to.

Author's Note: This thing's going AU to the next level. Let's have some feed back people!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 18: Deadly Coincidence**

            Black led the way again. He seemed to think he was the most capable of dealing with Pettigrew if we ran into him. We didn't have any light, so to make sure we stayed together every one grabbed the hand of the person in front of them. Well Snape refused to hold anyone's hand, so he ended up going last.   I was feeling terrible and the only thing allowing me to keep up was Ron's merciless grip on my hand. If I fell he'd probably just keep dragging me along at the same pace. Hermione was behind me, still crying a little bit. I needed to apologize to both of them.  I should have told them right from the start about Scabbers. If we got out of this tunnel alive I would definitely do that first thing. We all heard the Dementors rasping breath behind them. I was getting very sick of being chased through dark tunnels by those things.

            As if responding to my thoughts there was suddenly light. It was blinding. Ron stopped and I plowed into him.

            "Don't move Black!" called a shaking voice. 

            I blinked desperately. Professor Lupin stood before us, blocking the way. He was wrapped in a motley assortment of pajamas and robes, all of them stained with mud. He didn't have any shoes. His face was drawn and pale and his eyes were wide as if he had just awakened from a bad dream. The red lines around his mouth had faded. He held his glowing wand out before him, crumpled in his hand was the Marauder's Map Black had misplaced.

            "Remus…" Black said.

            "Shut up! Where are the children? What have you done?" Lupin was shaking as he spoke.  I guess whatever poison Pettigrew had used on him hadn't entirely worn off. 

            "Remus move! The dementors are right behind us!"

            Black darted forward and snatched the wand out of Lupin's hand. 

Lupin watched him, confused. "Something's wrong," he said, leaning against the side of the tunnel, and putting his hands against his head.

            "Get out of here Lupin!" Snape called. For the first time ever, I heard panic in his voice. I turned to see Snape backing down the tunnel, toward the dementors. 

            "Professor!" called Hermione, reaching out toward him.

            "He's about to transform!" Snape shouted. 

            Lupin's eyes grew huge. He whirled and stumbled up the tunnel. 

            Black grabbed Ron and pulled the human chain into motion again. He held Lupin's wand before him, so at least we had some light. Snape did not look as if he planed to follow, but the dementors were louder then ever, so he did not have much of a choice.

            "What is Professor Lupin going to transform into?" I gasped as we stumbled on.

            Ahead of us Lupin screamed, the pitch rising every second, until it was an inhuman howl.

            "Werewolf." Snape said, nearly whispering.  

            Black shoved the wand into Ron's hand. "Keep the light going. Follow as fast as you can. I'll try to force him out."

            With a pop, Black was replaced by a massive dog. It went tearing up the tunnel, not bothered at all by the low ceiling. It was barking savagely as it disappeared into the darkness ahead. Ron held up the wand and took the lead. We were barely ten feet further when the barking and howls changed to snarling and yips of pain. 

            "Hurry!" Hermione called from behind me. The air around us grew colder every second, and as I looked back I saw Snape was still dragging his feet. How anyone could find werewolf more frightening then a dementor was far beyond me.  As we ran along I noticed signs of the fight we were following. Clumps of gray and black fir littered the ground and as the tunnel turned upward I saw crimson stains in the dirt. The edge of my vision grew foggy. The dementors were catching up.

            I didn't know what to think when the end of the tunnel came into view. I was worried looking at it to hard would cause it to vanish. But then we were there. Ron scrambled out first and pulled me out. I fell sprawling in the grass at the base of the Whomping Willow. My legs just wouldn't hold me up any longer. A second later Hermione tumbled to the ground next to me. Snape crawled out of the tunnel last of all, refusing Ron's offered hand.

            The Willow was frozen above us. In the distance I saw a gray blur slink off into the forest. A large black dog limped in our direction, tail wagging. I smiled. I couldn't help it. I couldn't believe we made it out of there alive. All we needed now was for Dumbledore to show up with a pardon for Black and it would all be perfect. 

Then Ron screamed.

            I whirled. He stood among the willow's roots, all the color gone from his face, as still as a statue. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, until I saw the hands. A dementor had reached from the tunnel and grabbed a hold of Ron's ankles. As I watched another one rose from among the twisted roots, reaching around his neck. I tried to get to my feet but my legs wouldn't obey. To my amazement Snape sprang forward. In a single movement he pulled Ron away from the dementors and snatched Lupin's wand from his slack hands.

            "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Snape bellowed, and a silvery mist poured from the tip of the wand.

            The dementors shrank away from it as if burned. I took a shaking breath. Maybe things would still work out. Maybe I hadn't just jinxed the crap out of us. 

Then Hermione screamed.

Standing on the lawn, not ten yards away, was Pettigrew. Hermione pushed me flat on the ground a second before a bright green light flew over our heads. The light struck the base of the Whomping Willow and the bark crumbled. The branches convulsed once, and then the air was split with a resounding crack. The four of us scrambled to get out of the way as the willow tilted towards us. The silver light disappeared as Snape dove out of under the falling tree, and dementors flowed up out the ground like hornets from a nest.

            Ron grabbed Hermione's and my arms and tried to pull us toward the castle, but a row of dementors cut us off. We back pedaled and dropped to the ground just in time to avoid another curse from Pettigrew. 

            "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Snape shouted again. 

Another stream of silver mist poured from the wand and we ran for the now dementor free vicinity of the Potions Professor. Pettigrew aimed his wand at us but before he could blow us all into mulch, the black dog charged him. The dog sunk its teeth into his arm and the wand fell into the grass. With a pop, Black returned to human form, and snatched it up, but Pettigrew still had Snape and Hermione's wands and he drew them both, one in each hand.  Red lights exploded all around them and I couldn't see who was winning. Someone in the castle had to be seeing this. Help had to be on the way by now. We'd be rescued any second.

 Then Snape screamed.

Well he didn't actually scream. It was more of a surprised, high pitched, bellow. We turned. 

Snape didn't even have time to bring up his hands to defend himself. The werewolf landed on his chest and the wand bounced away into the grass. Snape lay there looking up at it, arms pinned by paws. I'd never seen anyone look that afraid before, not even Neville Longbottom. The werewolf sniffed at him and barred its teeth in what may have been a smile. It opened its jaws and leaned slowly toward Snape's throat.

I blame Steve Erwin for what happened next. Tackling a werewolf when you're feeling healthy is a very bad idea, when you're feeling ready to drop dead, it's suicidal. That might be an oxymoron. My point is the Crocodile Hunter is a lunatic and should never be imitated.      

            I dove at the werewolf, landed on its back, and threw my arms around its neck, pulling as hard as I could. My momentum knocked us away from Snape and we rolled across the lawn. It got back to its feet, with me still stuck on it like a giant flea. It twisted its neck around trying to bite me, but I didn't let go of its neck so it couldn't reach.  There was panicked shouting going on all around me, and bright silver light flew past me. 

I looked up and say Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall running across the lawn towards us, the dementors retreating before them.  McGonagall was firing curses at the struggling forms of Black and Pettigrew, and Hermione and Ron were running to meet them. We were finally saved. 

Then I screamed.

The werewolf rolled onto its side and my head slammed into the ground. I lost my grip. The werewolf was on top of me in a second.  Its claws sunk through my pajamas and cut into the skin on my chest. It lunged for my throat.

Quidditch skills saved my life once again, though I don't know if my arm will ever be the same. I managed to cover the important arteries leading to my brain, and the wolf's fangs sunk into my left arm instead. Needless to say it really hurt, though I can honestly say it was not the worse pain I went through that night. It shook its head and I was sure my arm was about to come off. 

The black dog slammed into the wolf and it released my arm in order to defend itself. The dog quickly gained the upper hand, or upper paw maybe. It sunk its jaws into the wolf's throat and the two canines rolled away across the lawn.  The wolf wined in submission and when the dog let go, it sprinted into the forest as fast as it could go. 

 I lay back in the grass. Things had to be alright now. The Aurors, well at least one Auror had arrived and the werewolf was gone. And…and…the moon seemed to be getting bigger. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off it, until Black leaned over me and blocked it from my sight.

            "Oh Merlin! Oh no! No no no no no no no!" Black said. He gently picked up my arm and inspected the bite.

            There was blood every where. The flesh was shredded and I think the bones were broken. I couldn't move my fingers. It made my stomach hurt to look at it, but Madam Pomfrey would be able to fix it for me. It didn't bother me all that much. What was starting to annoy me was the strange tingling sensation in my skin.

            "Did you get Pettigrew?" I asked.

            "Forget Pettigrew," Black mumbled.  "SOMEBODY FIND A HEALER!" he yelled. 

            I wanted to see the moon again, but my air space kept getting more crowded. Snape's face popped into view next.  He reached down and peeled back my eye lids, staring intently.

            "The curse is already in his blood," Snape said. "There may be time…" he muttered jogging off toward the castle.

            McGonagall dropped to her knees beside me. "Potter what have you done to yourself?" She said as she put a hand on my forehead, as if checking for a fever. The tingling was growing worse. It was sinking down through my skin into the muscles and bones. It was getting hard to focus, but I remembered I had something important to tell her. 

            "Peter Pettigrew is alive. Did you see?"

            "I saw him," she said.

            "Move aside!" Snape ordered loudly. 

            McGonagall scooted out of the way as Snape levitated over a huge cauldron. I don't know where he got it from, but it was already filled to the brim with a frothing yellowish fluid.

            "It's a rushed batch, so it may take several times the normal dose to work. Black, hold him still." Snape said as he conjured up a goblet. 

He filled it from the cauldron and leaned towards me. As he did, my stomach tightened and my breath caught. Suddenly I knew the liquid in that goblet would kill me. It would burn. It would melt me away to nothing. I had to get away. I rolled over and tried to crawl away, but Black grabbed me. His arm wrapped around me, pinning my right arm to my side. He held me against his chest and grabbed my left wrist, stretching it out toward Snape.

"Don't! Black no! Please! Let me go! Please let me go! He's trying to kill me! Let me go, don't do this, Please!" I begged but Black didn't let go. I kicked him and I tried to bite him but he held on too tightly. Snape poured the potion over my injured arm and I screamed.

It burned. It felt as if my arm was melting away and the pain traveled up my veins into my chest. I sobbed helplessly as Snape refilled the goblet.

"Black let go! Don't let him do it please! Don't let him! Please Black you said you'd protect me!" 

He didn't let go. "Harry, that's the werewolf talking. Just hang on, it will be over soon."

"Black no…AHHHHHHHHHH!" 

I screamed again as Snape poured more of the liquid over my arm. Through tear flooded eyes I saw him inspect to wound.

"It's not working fast enough. He'll have to drink," he announced.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" I didn't entirely recognize the voice coming out of my own mouth. 

Snape refilled the goblet. I clenched my teeth and turned my face away. 

"Minerva! Help us!" Snape called.

A moment later my Head-of-House was at his side. She tried to use a spell to force my mouth open but it bounced off. She shoved the handle of her wand in my mouth, and used it to pry my teeth apart. Black tilted me backward and Snape poured the potion in. Acid was eating away my insides. I screamed and it felt as if my throat were tearing apart. I don't know how I did it, but I broke Black's grip and staggered away from them. 

The world was spinning. I was tingling and burning all over. Black ran towards be. I tried to tell him to back off, but a low growl rumbled from my throat instead.

"It's too late," Snape's voice called from far away.

            The world went red. 


	19. Where the Hell Have You Been?

Disclaimed

Author's note: Sorry about the long wait. Why do they all schedule midterms for the same week? I think the influence of standardized tests made this chapter a little angsty. The next one will be cheerier. Any who, on with the show. 

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 19: Where the Hell Have You Been?**

            It was like one of those dreams where you're falling, except I was going forward instead of down. The world was gray and black and white, but it smelled brown and green. The forest tilted and rocked all over the place as I went. One of my legs wasn't working right, and it made my strides lopsided. It hurt, and every once in a while I would stop and chew on it, but I never stopped for long. Something in my head just wouldn't let me rest. I knew I had to go home, and I couldn't stop until I got there.  I had no idea where home was, but I had a feeling in the back of my head that I was going the right way. I was still hobbling along, in the same direction, when the sun rose and the world exploded again.

            "Harry, please wake up! Oh God! Please wake up!"

            Water dribbled across my face. There were thin cool lines where I wasn't in flaming agony, but they faded away too quickly.  I groaned.

            "Harry! That's it. Just open your eyes for a second, please!"

            I opened my eyes a crack. I wasn't certain I had woken up though. The world around me was blurry, bright and burning hot. Something smelled fetid and awful. More water splashed onto my forehead, and ran down my face and neck. Through the fog I realized there was a hand on the back of my head, holding me up right. 

            "We're almost there Harry. Only a couple of hours more and we'll have you in the hospital wing. You have to hang on till then."

            The voice was familiar, but I couldn't remember who it was. The blurry figure leaned past me and I tried to see what he was doing. Next to me was something so bright it was impossible to look at, but I heard another splash. It must have been a stream. I couldn't figure out how water that painfully bright could be so cold, but as another hand full was dribbled across my face, I found I didn't really care.

            "Try to drink a little."

            A cupped hand poured more water into my mouth. He kept giving me water until I couldn't drink anymore. The world seemed to clear up a little bit. I finally figured out who the man was.

            "…Black…"

            "That's right Harry. Do you feel any better? We're almost back to the school."

            He splashed more water on my face as he spoke, and I realized he was me favorite person in the entire universe.

            "…swim…" I said. The water was right there after all.

            Black laughed. It sounded forced. "You can swim all you want after we get your arm fixed."  

            "…'s hot…"

            "It'll be better soon. Try to stay awake alright. We have to keep moving."

            I opened my eyes a little more, and it was easier to focus. I took a deep breath. The fetid smell seemed stronger.

            "What's that?" I asked, sniffing the air.

            "Nothing. Close your eyes again." 

            I realized my left arm didn't hurt anymore. There was only a strange hot feeling. I started to look down but Black put his hand over my eyes. He couldn't keep it there thought.  He uncovered my face so he could pick me up. I looked at my arm. I didn't know puss came in that color. Fortunately I passed out before I could vomit on myself.

            "Just give him the rest of the potions and get out."

            "Are you giving me orders Black?"

            "No, I'm threatening you."

            "Both of yeh knock it off or I'll knock yer heads together!"

            My head hurt badly, but despite my better judgment I sat up and looked around. I was immediately dizzy. The room spinning around me was Hagrid's hut. I'd been tucked into his oversized bed, and I began to push the blankets off.  I felt like a foil wrapped potato stuffed in an oven. As the blankets fell to the floor, three surprised people turned towards me. Black was at my side in an instant, reburying me in unnecessary insulation.

            "No! It's too hot," I said, trying to shove them off again.  

            Black won the argument when I got so dizzy I had to lie back down.

            "Snape, give him the God Damned potions!" Black growled.

            Snape swooped up to the bed and pulled a handful of vials from his sleeve. Each was filled with bizarre neon colored liquids. I noticed Snape was wearing gloves. He looked down at me with an expression I couldn't figure out, and it was very unnerving.  Snape handed the vials to Black without comment, and backed away. Hagrid came forward to fill the unoccupied space.

            "How're yeh feeling Harry?" asked Hagrid, as Black poured a purple, very un-grape flavored, liquid into my mouth.  

            "I'm alright," I said, trying not to gag. I remembered something was wrong, but I couldn't remember what, something about Ron and Hermione. I asked if they were ok.

            "They're fine. McGonagall's locked um' both up in the hospital wing till Dumbledore gets back and we get this all sorted out," Hagrid said.

            "That's good," I said as a sour, gritty, pink solution was dumped into my mouth. I noticed my left arm was itching and I pulled it out of under the blankets. It was completely encased in gauze bandages. "What happened?" I asked, struggling to remember. 

            "We'll talk about it later," Black said, pouring a viscous green potion down my throat. I started to argue, but I couldn't keep my eyes open.

            When I woke up again the terrible heat had faded to a comfortable warmth. It was mostly dark, but I could see smoldering embers in a fire place a few feet to my left. I knew right away what had woken me up. I crawled out of bed in search of the bathroom. I progressed about a foot before tripping over the dog.

            POP!

            "Harry what's wrong? Why are you out of bed?" Black asked as he helped me up.

            "Where's the bathroom?" I asked.

            Black reached under the bed, and pulled out a cast iron pot. It looked suspiciously like the pot Hagrid usually used for making stew. "Here," he said.

            "That's not a bathroom!"

            "It's a chamber pot. I'll go out side until you're finished."

            "I'm not peeing in any more buckets!" I declared loudly.

            Black was making a funny choked noise and I realized he was trying not to laugh, but he also looked like his stomach hurt. "Calm down Harry." 

            "You calm down."

            "Do you feel well enough for a short walk?" Black asked.

            My legs felt a bit rubbery but I nodded. Black reached under the bed again and pulled out some slippers. I put them on, and Black grabbed one of the blankets off the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders. He turned back into a dog and led me out the door. It was night and the sky was cloudy. We circled the hut and crossed the pumpkin patch. I stopped when I saw our destination. 

            "That's not a bathroom either. That's Hagrid's tool shed!"

            The dog made a funny chuffing noise, and kept going. I opened the door of what I had thought to be a shed.

 I suppose it made sense that Hagrid had an outhouse. It was kind of a long walk up to the castle. It was still one of those things I'd be happier not knowing though.

            By the time we got back to the hut, (I insisted on finding somewhere to wash my hands), my teeth were chattering with cold. I sat on the bed and pulled my feet up under me. After returning to human form, Black threw some more wood into the fire place. It immediately caught, filling the room with orange light. Black sat down next to me. The humor was gone from his face. There was something at the back of my mind that I was trying very hard not to think about. I had a feeling Black was going to bring it up.

            "Harry, do you remember what happened to you?" Black asked.

            "Yes. No. Yes." I did. I remembered then, but I had this theory that if I didn't say anything, and no one else did, then maybe the universe would forget and I could just go on like normal.

"Have you studied werewolves yet, in Defense Class?" Black asked.

"That's not until next semester."

"Harry…" Black began, but I cut him off.

"I've lost my glasses again. I hope they'll turn up. Aunt Petunia really hates it when she has to get me new glasses, but it's usually not my fault. There was this one time Dudley, he's my cousin, threw them up on the roof of the school, and I was going to climb up and get them but the bell rang and I had to go to class or I would have gotten in trouble."  

"Harry…"

"It's not that I really need them. I can see close up just fine with out them. Hermione will let me copy her notes, so I'm not that worried about reading the board in class, but Quidditch will be a bit harder."

"Harry…"

"Did you ever wear glasses, or maybe contact lenses? I always wanted to try those but I'd probably loose them somewhere."

"Harry…" He grabbed my shoulders and I knew I couldn't dodge it any longer.

"There's no cure." I stated.

"There's no cure," Black confirmed quietly.

"I turned into one. That's why my head's all fuzzy about last night."

"It was three nights ago Harry."

"Oh."

There was a long silent pause.

"Did you get Pettigrew?" I asked.

Black threw his arms around me, and started his "I'm sorry" chant. I guessed that meant no. All that work for nothing. Part of my brain was telling me it was ok to cry, as there was a shoulder readily available. Well it was more of an armpit really, because Black's about a foot taller then me. I couldn't cry though. I didn't even have that kind of sore throat feeling you get when you try not to cry. It was too big to think about, like when somebody tells you that in four billion years the sun will explode, and you just say "that's not good". It was too big to be real.  I was about to push Black away when the door knob rattled.

Pop!

Black the dog went up to the door and sniffed it. He growled. A moment later Snape pushed the door open, nearly hitting the dog in the head with it.

"Dumbledore will be here shortly," Snape said.  He swept into the room, but avoided all the available chairs. Another figure stood right outside the door way, as if afraid to enter.

"Coward," Snape said in a nearly inaudible voice.

The figure flinched as if struck, and a moment later, Professor Lupin stepped inside. He stared at the floor.

"Not even going to look at what you've done?" Snape needled.

Black the dog growled, and advanced on Snape.

I thought stupid fighting was about to ensue, but then Hagrid returned. He picked up Black the dog by the back of the neck and tossed him on the bed next to me. Hagrid went to the hearth and put the kettle on. 

"Dumbledore's on his way," he said.

The next few minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the clink of china as Hagrid set out mugs. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Kingsley Shacklebolt entered without knocking. I didn't know I was angry at Dumbledore until I saw him.

"Where've you been," I asked. I guess I sounded accusatory, because McGonagall shot me a look, but it rapidly changed from stern to pitying. I looked away.

"I am certain everything will be explained," Dumbledore said calmly, "but first I must insure we have privacy. Hagrid, if you would?"

Hagrid nodded and, after taking his crossbow from its hook above the door, stepped outside.    

            "Mr. Black, you may join in the conversation if you wish." Dumbledore continued.

            The dog looked at me questioningly. I didn't have any advice for him, so I just patted him on the head. With a pop he transformed. Black sat quietly, looking at everyone. I think he was a little intimidated.  The kettle whistled. Dumbledore went to the hearth and served out the tea. When everyone had a cup, he sat in one of Hagrid's huge lumpy arm chairs.

            "I believe we should begin at the beginning," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Black, would you please enlighten us as to how and why you escaped Azkaban and abducted Harry?"

            So Black repeated his depressing tale of Pettigrew's betrayal and the subsequent hunt for him. He left out Kreacher, and I didn't call him on it. We had to slap him back to reality four times.  When he talked about my parents he'd start mumbling he was sorry, and when he talked about Pettigrew he mumbled less then endearing homicidal intentions.  I guess the recent run-ins with the Dementors had put a few hurtles in his path back to sanity. I already knew most of the story, though it was a bit of a surprise when Black described my transformation, and the night he spent chasing me through the Forbidden Forest. He didn't find me until the next morning, and by then the bite on my arm was badly infected. He'd had to carry me all the way back to Hogwarts. He finished and Dumbledore simply nodded.

            "Remus, would you fill in the gaps pertaining to your participation in last Saturday's events?"

            Lupin looked as if he would rather have shot himself in the foot.  He spoke in a clear voice, but his eyes never left the floor.

            "I was correcting papers for my sixth years, and I felt for some tea. Nothing seemed off about it, until I was halfway through my second cup.  I don't know how I missed the silver nitrate. There must have been some sort of anesthesia in it, so I couldn't feel it burning my mouth. I didn't think I would make it to the hospital wing, but then Harry and Hermione Granger burst through the door. I woke up in the hospital wing. I thought it was the same night. I didn't know. I didn't know a day had gone by. I wouldn't have gone out, but I thought it was the same night…" He paused for a moment and I saw he was trying to stop his hands from shaking.

 "I woke up locked in a private room, wrapped in someone else's robe. The smell, I knew it was Sirius'. I went through the pockets and found a map we had made, together with James and Peter when we were all at school here. It shows where everyone is in the school at any given moment. I saw Sirius and Harry running under the Whomping Willow and Severus a few yards behind.  I thought Sirius was playing some kind of sick game. I thought he was going to kill Harry, while I could only watch. 

"I broke out, and found my wand. They had gone off the map by the time I reached the willow. I went into the tunnel.  I was halfway there when a curse hit me. I think it was a Confundus Charm, the only thing I remember after that is Severus shouting that I was about to transform. I'm sorry."

                He didn't look up the entire time he spoke.

            Professor McGonagall told her story then. She had been in her office, when suddenly her tally board showed that someone had taken a thousand points from Gryffindor.  She could think of only one Professor who would even contemplate such an act.  When she could not locate Snape, she summoned Kingsley Shacklebolt, as Snape was another likely target for Sirius Black. They came outside when they heard the werewolf howling and the rest of the story we already knew.

            Dumbledore nodded again as she finished. He did not give Snape a chance to talk. Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, and began his own tale. "Severus, the next time you inventory your potion store, I believe you will find silver nitrate missing, and Draft of Living Death as well." He took another sip of tea.

            "I should have been more careful after the attempt on Professor Lupin's life, but I trusted the wards around my office. I knew there was no way any person could get in without my knowledge. Four days ago, I had a meeting with the Minister of Magic, concerning what he viewed to be the misuse of a Time Turner, loaned to Hermione Granger. Its intended use was violated when she and Harry went back in time one hour, to save Remus' life. I had to argue on her behalf.

"I was about to leave for the meeting, when I felt a twinge in my sweet tooth. I opened the top drawer of my desk to get my tin of lemon drops. They seemed to be a bit to the left of where I had placed them the night before, but I did not dwell on it. I was running late and I took the tin with me.

"The Minister and I got into a particularly heated argument, and I tried to lighten the situation by offering candy. Cornelius declined. I indulged. A few minutes later the argument grew unpleasantly loud. The minister stood up and so did I. I remember nothing after that.

"The rest of the story I have collected over the past few hours, since I was revived at St. Mungo's.  Apparently the Minister panicked when I collapsed. He checked for a pulse and did not find one, which is not uncommon when a person has ingested the Draft. Assuming I was dead and nothing could be done for me, the Minister attempted to find a good spin to put on the incident.  I suppose he could not find a way to make my dying in the middle of an argument with him reflect favorably. Rather then asking his secretary to summon healers, he continued to carry on his half of the conversation in a loud voice, mean while he was arranging for my body to be moved somewhere less scandalous.  At some point in the chain of command, "move the body" was translated to "dispose of the body."  Fortunately Fawks sensed something was wrong and came looking for me, or I might have ended up in Mrs. Norris' next tin of cat food." 

Dumbledore settled back in the chair as he finished, and at that moment he looked terribly old.  It seemed rather unbelievable that Pettigrew had gotten the drop on the most powerful wizard in England. The whole situation was unbelievable. It was impossible, and it wasn't fair. 

My eyes darted to the dark corners of the room, but I didn't see any rats. I didn't feel any more confident though. Dumbledore's presence no longer made me feel as safe as it used to. I think that's when it really sunk in. The Headmaster would not be able to help me. No one was hiding a miracle up their sleeve. 

I'm a werewolf.

I'm still not sure if I said that out loud or not. Every adult in the room was watching me. I don't care if I did. 

Snape started to say something, but Dumbledore cut him off. "I have some things I need to discuss with Harry, in private."

The Professors and Black all stood up and left. Black stared at me for a long moment, before turning into a dog and walking out. I wished he would argue and try to stay with me.  Maybe he still believed Dumbledore could make things right.

"You have some decisions to make, Harry" Dumbledore said quietly, after the door closed, "and none of them are easy."

He waved his wand, and a roll of parchment appeared in my hands. I opened it, and began to read.


	20. The Laws of Lycanthropy

Disclaimed

Author's Note: Thanks reviewers!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 20: The Laws of Lycanthropy**

            I threw the stick and the dog went tearing after it, nearly bowling over Hermione as it went. She laughed a little, and looked at Ron. He smiled back weakly. We all knew he was still angry with me for not telling him about the rat. Ron never forgives easily, and he never lets anything go. He still complains about how his older brother Bill used to cheat at cards when they were little.  The dog brought the stick to Hermione this time. I called him "the dog", even in my head, so I wouldn't accidentally call him Black. I didn't think anyone would make the connection if I said it, but less risks were always better.  Hermione threw the stick into a clump of bushes.  It would take the dog a while to find it. I took advantage of the short break to go over the rules in my head again.  Dumbledore said I needed to have them memorized.  

**Laws Pertaining to the Prevention and Containment of Lycanthropy**

_            The following laws, regulations and penalties have been authored and approved by the Wizengamot in its entirety, on this day, the fourteenth of December, 1257._

_            Due to the ease with which the curse of Lycanthropy is spread, the following regulations pertain to all persons or susceptible beings exposed. Anyone bitten, clawed, or in any way injured through direct contact with a werewolf must immediately report to a healer, for treatment and registration, should treatment fail. Anyone exposed to werewolf blood, or other viscera must report to a healer for treatment, and must be quarantined for the subsequent full moon, until the presents or absence of the curse can be confirmed.  _

I wonder how they define immediately.

_            Any person or entity with knowledge of an unregistered werewolf or potential werewolf must report the cursed individual to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Failure to do so will result in a three month incarceration in Azkaban, for each unreported werewolf._

As I went over that paragraph in my mind my stomach hurt. Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, Dumbledore, and McGonagall, they could all end up in Azkaban with the dementors if anyone found out about me.  Dumbledore thought it was better for me to hide it though, and I mostly agreed, but I didn't want them to get in trouble for me. It seemed like an impossible secret to keep. 

            The dog brought the stick to Ron this time. It was covered in drool and Ron took it gingerly by the end and tried to shake the dog saliva off. Hermione shrieked in disgust as drops of spit splattered her face and robes. Ron apologized and the dog rolled on the grass, making funny chuffing noises. I tried to keep from smiling.  Thinking of the rest of the rules helped a lot with that.

_            The following restrictions  pertain to all individuals bearing the curse of Lycanthropy. All cursed individuals must have in their place of residence, a secure and isolated enclosure and restraints, to prevent the injury and contamination of others. The enclosure is subject to inspection, by Ministry officials, at any time. All cursed individuals must be secured two hours in advance of moon rise._

They were going to give me wolves-bane potion, and lock me up with Black and Professor Lupin. I wondered if werewolf Lupin would just stare at the floor the whole time, like Professor Lupin did whenever I was in his class room. In eighteen days I would find out.

_            A person cursed with lycanthropy must inform all wizards and witches living within a five mile radius of his or her condition, and must receive community approval before taking up residence in a populated area. The cursed individual must inform a healer of his or her condition before treatment is administered. An individual bearing the curse of Lycanthropy must warn any recipient of intimate contact of the danger of transmission._

            Oh good, the part where I do something illegal.  Dumbledore told me he would take responsibility if I was discovered. He sounded very confident, but I didn't feel reassured.  What would Dumbledore be able to do if they sent Aurors after me?   I've seen him intimidate people, but I've never seen him use force.  What if he couldn't stare the Aurors down?

_            Any werewolf convicted of violating the above restrictions shall be immediately confined to Azkaban, with the duration of sentence determined with regard to the severity of the violation._

If the Ministry tries to put me in Azkaban, I'll run. I can't go there, not even to await trial. The thoughts twisted my stomach into even tighter knots.  I don't think I could get away from them either. They'd drag me to prison or I'd be killed trying to escape.  If they forced me into that place I'd probably die anyway.  Just thinking about dementors makes me cold and sweaty.  I'd probably have a heart attack on the way to the island.

_            Any werewolf who violates the above conditions, and through there own recklessness injures, kills or infects another individual with the curse, shall be confined to Azkaban, and upon his or her next transformation to a none human state, shall be executed by a member of the Department for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.         _

When Dumbledore gave me the list of rules, he asked me to read over the last paragraph thoroughly. At first I thought he was warning me not to be reckless. Then I thought of Professor Lupin.  Would the Ministry consider his behavior reckless? He'd been poisoned and was trying to rescue me from almost certain death. They'd have to let him off. I asked Dumbledore if they would acquit him, because of the circumstances. He told me nothing was certain with the Ministry. He never told me I had to lie, but he made his preferences pretty clear.  Kingsley Shacklebolt wrote all my statements for me. All I had to do was memorize them, incase another Auror was reassigned to the case.  All I had to do was lie, and I could live my life almost normally.__

            I looked at Ron and Hermione again. The dog had brought the stick to Ron, but would not let go when Ron tried to take it form him. Ron seemed confused. I don't think he plays tug-of-war very often. Hermione got to laugh at him, as the dog jerked backwards and pulled Ron off his feet.

            I couldn't keep from imagining it. I've had nightmares about it since the first night back in the dorms. We'd be out walking, or up in the Gryffindor common room some night, and I'd suddenly look out the window and see a full moon.  When I picture it in my head, Hermione always dies first. Blood comes out of her mouth and she stares at me, looking so betrayed. Ron puts up more of a fight and the whole time his eyes are filled with hate. He dies trying to kill me. After that, the dream changes. Sometimes I run off into the forest, and I don't become human again.  Other times Black or Dumbledore die too. More frequently I dream about Snape bursting in and killing me with some sort of acidic potion.   

            I had tired to get them to stay away from me. Ron looked insulted and Hermione looked weepy, and then we couldn't argue about it anymore because Fred and George came into the room, incensed that Dumbledore was now in possession on the Marauder's Map. I'd distracted them by mentioning that Professor Lupin had helped to make it when he was a student at Hogwarts, and they wandered off to bother him about it.  Hermione and Ron wouldn't hear a word about it after that.

            The dog wrestled the stick away from a very grass stained Ron and trotted triumphantly up to me.  I couldn't help feeling a bit better with Black hanging around. Dumbledore let him stay at the school as a dog, to keep an eye and a nose out for Peter the rat.  He had to live in Hagrid's hut with Hagrid's dog Fang, and he had to act like a stupid dog, but he didn't have to run anymore. I visited him everyday, but he couldn't risk being human. We played fetch a lot.

            I patted him on the head, took the stick, turned, and threw it as hard as I could towards the lake.  When the dog didn't go charging after it, I turned back.  The dog's fir was standing on end and his teeth were bared in a silent snarl. For I second I thought Pettigrew was back, but it was only Draco Malfoy, and his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. They came swaggering across the lawn, and Ron and Hermione hurried over to us.

            "That's the ugliest dog I've ever seen," Malfoy said sneering, "Which end is the head?"

            Crabbe and Goyle laughed, in low stupid voices.

            "The end that doesn't look like your mother," said Ron.

Hermione and I snickered. Malfoy really set himself up for that one. The dog chuffed a bit too, but followed up with a sneeze so it wouldn't look suspicious.

"Shut up Potter. Everyone knows Dumbledore got you that dog because you're too scared to go back to class on your own. You're still frightened big bad Black is going snatch you out of the hallway again." Malfoy said. He tried to look down his nose at us, but Ron's taller then him and his goons, so he failed again. We stared right back. Well, those of us standing on two legs did. The dog growled and Malfoy did his best to ignore it, but I could tell he was getting paler.          

"My father's one of the school governor's, and they won't let you keep a dog Potter.  It's against the rules."

"It's not my dog Malfoy. It's Hagrids, so you can cry to your dad all you want," I said confidently.

"Well if it's not your dog, then you won't mind…ARRRGGGGGGG!"

As Malfoy spoke he pulled his wand. I didn't see it coming, and I would've been too later to stop him, but the dog could take care of himself.  As Malfoy took aim the dog lunged forward and chomped down on his forearm. He screamed and his wand fell in the grass. Crabbe and Goyle bellowed and Hermione shrieked incoherently. Malfoy pounded on the dog's nose with his free hand but it wouldn't let go. 

I pulled on the dog's neck but he wasn't paying attention to me either. There were worse times for Black to go crazy, but I couldn't think of many. It wasn't until I pulled on his ears that the dog let go. He snapped at me and started walking away across the lawn. I had no idea what to do.

Malfoy knelt in the grass and pulled up his sleeve. I was more then a little shocked when I saw his arm. It was badly bruised, but the dog hadn't broken the skin. That didn't stop him from wailing though. Crabbe and Goyle pulled him to his feet and helped him back towards the castle.  Just before Malfoy went through the doors he turned back toward us and shouted.

"I'll get you for this Potter! And your little dog too!"   

"I just meant to scare him." Black looked sullenly at him feet. He'd said something similar to me a few weeks ago, and from the looks of angry recognition on Dumbledore and Snape's faces, I got the idea Black had done something like this before.

"You meant to scare a thirteen year old boy by nearly tearing off his arm?" Snape said in a voice so quiet we all had to lean in closer to hear it. "Just like you meant to scare me? No convenient werewolf around in mid-afternoon though."  

"The sadistic little brat could use a good scare. Maybe he'll learn it's not good to torture people, before he gets arrested for it."

"Mr. Black you are missing the point," Dumbledore interrupted before Snape could respond. "You attacked one of my students. I can not allow you to remain here."

I felt my stomach drop. Dumbledore continued. 

"I will see that you are transported to Grimmauld Place, and you will remain there until I am convinced you can control yourself."  

"I'm in control," Black said. His eyes had a strange dead look and I knew the next things to come out of his mouth were going to do more harm then good. "I could have ripped out his throat but I didn't. All Malfoy's go bad, but I didn't kill him. A Death Eater if I ever saw one, but I didn't kill him."

I wanted to tear my hair out. Dumbledore's eyes were not the least bit cheerful. Snape looked smugly satisfied.  Black sat almost calmly, like he knew he was right.

"I will arrange transport for you later this evening," Dumbledore said. He stood up, and left Hagrid's hut. I knew it was a bad idea to leave Black and Snape alone in the same room, but I thought I could get Dumbledore to change his mind. He walks too fast for an old man. I was nearly out of breath when I caught up with him.

"Please sir, you can't send him away. Malfoy was pulling a wand. He was going to curse him. You can't blame Black. It's because of the dementor's. He's not right in the head."

Dumbledore stopped and put a hand on my shoulder. "Harry, the after effects of Azkaban are exactly why I can not allow him to stay.  I thought perhaps human contact with you and your friends and Hagrid would help him adjust, but he has proved today that he is not ready to be around people, especially children. I will see that he receives counseling and treatment. Sirius does have family and friends left who were rather fond of him. Once they are convinced he is not a murderer I am certain they will be willing to help him."

"You shouldn't send him by himself. Let me go with him."

"Harry, that would do much more harm then good. People will never believe he is innocent if you keep disappearing, and turning up weeks later in poor health.  Sirius will be allowed to return for the full moon and the days adjacent to it, but he is too much of a risk to be allowed any more permanent residence.  If he can prove he is in control, perhaps he can return later."

"But what about Pettigrew? Black won't be able to help if Pettigrew shows up. He has to stay!"

"I don't believe Pettigrew will return to the school Harry.  Too many have seen him.  He'll be looking for another place to hide."

"You're just going to give up? We'll never prove Black's innocent if we can't catch him."

"We have not given up Harry, but Black can't be a part of this.  Not until he is more stable."  

Dumbledore turned and walked away.

Ron and Hermione came with me. We snuck out under the invisibility cloak. The sun was setting.  McGonagall told me the dog was leaving just after seven, and that I was to stay in the dorm, and not do anything foolish. The three of us ran as fast as we could into the Forbidden Forest. Black, Hagrid, and Dumbledore hadn't gone too far in.

I thought we were being very quiet, but Dumbledore noticed us following the second we entered the clearing behind them. He waved his wand and the cloak flew into his hand, exposing us. To my surprise he waved us over, looking for all the world like we were invited guests who showed up late.

Black seemed very sullen, but he smiled a bit as we came up to him. "Come to see me off to the nut house?" He sounded almost cheerful, but his face didn't match.

I nodded.

"Are you alright?" Black asked me.

I nodded again. I lie a lot now.

Dumbledore took a huge golden pocket watch from his sleeve and opened it. "It's nearly time," he said simply. Then he put the watch in Black's hand.

"Good-bye Harry. I'll see you on the twenty-fifth."  He didn't sound as if he entirely believed his own words.   "Thank you for believing me."

"No problem Black." I was feeling stupidly miserable.  I was sure things would work out better then this.

"You can call me Sirius if you want," he said.

I was about to answer, but he disappeared. There wasn't even a pop. I looked at Dumbledore in surprise.

"It was a port-key," Dumbledore explained as he lead us back to the castle.  He was describing how it worked but I wasn't really listening. 

I hoped Sirius would be alright. 


	21. It's Time to Yell and Smash Stuff!

Disclaimed

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to update. Term papers are the bane of my existence. Thanks reviewers!

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 21: It's Time to Yell and Smash Stuff!**

            It was quarter past ten and Professor Lupin wasn't there. I think it was a sign of his overwhelming popularity that not even one person had suggested leaving yet, although Lavender Brown kept looking at the clock in the corner of the room and sighing. I was starting to get a little worried, and Hermione and Ron were exchanging concerned glances as well.  We were about to start the chapter on Hobgoblins. If Lupin tried to bring a live specimen to class and it got loose in his office or something, well I'd actually done the homework for this lesson, and I knew there'd be trouble of the decapitating variety. Ron, Hermione and I exchanged another round of glances.

            "If he's not here in five more minutes, I'll go check on him," I said.

            He was only five minutes late, and I didn't want to look like the teacher's pet. They nodded.

            To kill the time I took out Sirius' most recent letter. The first few he sent were long rambling apologies, but he was starting to put in words other then "sorry", and I was starting to enjoy having an adult I could talk to, or write to anyway. I mostly just told him things about school. I wrote about the Quidditch game last week. We'd played Hufflepuff and won. We were supposed to play Slytherin, but Malfoy had some fake excuse about his arm being too injured. Snape let them reschedule. Sirius had a lot of bad things to say about Snape in his reply.  I'm going to need a better dictionary to figure out exactly what he was calling him.  I unfolded the slightly dog-scented, crumpled parchment that Hedwig had given me during breakfast.

            Dear Harry,

            Greetings, from the mad house. The "mental healing" practitioner that Dumbledore threatened me with arrived this morning. He's French, incompetent and annoyingly nosey. I think Dumbledore is testing me. If I don't kill this idiot, maybe I'll be given a clean bill of health, though if he is here more then a week I don't think I'll make it. His name is Jean Xavier, by the way. I call him Jennie, but he doesn't seem to understand it's an insult. He just corrects me. If he wants to be called John, he should spell his name the English way. It's as if he doesn't know what country he's in.

He told me he was going to stay the entire afternoon, but I managed to get rid of him in under an hour. He started asking me questions about my relationship with my mother. I took him down to the basement and introduced them.  Not to my actual mother, she's dead, thank Merlin, but there is an unfortunately life like magical portrait of her in the house. I managed to pry it off the wall, but it's depressingly nonflammable.  Mother did serve some purpose today. She had Jennie weeping in less then five minutes and I got the rest of the day off.  I'm feeling more sane already.    

I haven't much other news. I can't get _The Prophet_ delivered here, and I didn't think to ask Jennie to bring me a recent copy. I'd appreciate any information you could pass along. 

I hope you're keeping an eye out for rats. Once again I am sorry for all this. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry. If you need anything, let me know. I'm sorry Harry. I will find some way to make this right. I'll see you on Thursday. I don't know if you've been told yet, but you should get lots of sleep before hand. I'll see you then. If you need anything, ask.

Take care of yourself.

-The Dog

            I looked at the clock and folded up the letter. Five minutes had gone by. I got up from my desk and after another series of meaningful looks exchanged with Hermione and Ron, I headed for Professor Lupin's office. It was up one flight of stairs. The hallway outside looked normal and free of Hobgoblins. The door of the office was closed and I knocked.

            Something heavy fell over in the room. I tried the knob, but it was locked. **Pettigrew!** The word glowed in my brain in bright red letters. The wand was in my hand before I could think about it.

            "Alohamora!"

            The door burst open. Mess was an inadequate word. Papers covered the floor and another layer of broken glass, discarded cloaks, and carelessly dropped books lay on top of them. I almost didn't see Lupin, slumped on his desk amid a variety of crumpled parchment and newspapers. It didn't matter though. The smell was a more then sufficient guide to his whereabouts.

            It was a sweet-sour smell. Somewhat like food, except it didn't make me want to eat. I circled the desk and the source of the smell came into view. The bottle had fallen to the floor without breaking, and amber liquid poured out onto a splayed stack of Ravenclaw essays, with a soft "glub…glub…glub" sound. 

            "You're drunk," I said accusingly to his slumped figure. 

            He twitched a bit and let out a long snore. I walked up to him and shook his shoulder. He groaned and put his arms over his head. I shook him harder and began to pulled the chair away from the desk. As he started to fall forward out of the chair, he sat up. He'd been drooling in his sleep and a piece of parchment was stuck to the side of his face. 

            "Hu?" he said, while blinking blearily. He looked around with blood shot eyes, until he noticed me. His gaze dropped to the floor.

            "Am I late for class?" he asked, trying to sound awake, "I must have fallen asleep. I was correcting papers, and…"

            "That would be easier to believe if you hadn't spilled whisky all over yourself, your desk, and the floor."

            His face was already red, but he managed to blush a little more. "It's brandy, actually," he corrected half-heartedly.  

"You're being stupid," I said.

He nodded.

"Well stop! The whole class is waiting for you. You have to come teach."

"I shouldn't be here.  I shouldn't have taken this job. I should have known. Harry I'm sorry…"

I cut him off. "You apologized already. You apologized a hundred times. I said I forgave you. So you need a letter from the archbishop to make it an official absolution?"

"Harry I can't fix this.  I can't help you. I can't undo what I did to you and now you're…you're…" He was starting to sound very choked up.

            "Yeah. Alright. You bit me and now I'm a werewolf too.  It's not as if you did it on purpose. And if you hadn't come after us, Pettigrew would've tortured me until I died. Two rounds of the Cruciatus curse are more then enough for me, thanks. If you hadn't gone into the tunnel when you did, we might not have gotten a chance to escape. I'm better off being a live werewolf then a dead body."

            He was still staring at the ground. "I've ruined your life."

            Arguments clearly weren't getting through. I came up with a plan that I though was quite stupid, but the little voice didn't object, so I proceeded. I walked around the desk, drew back my arm, so he would see it coming, and slapped Professor Lupin as hard as I could. He nearly fell out of his chair. He looked at me in shock, but at least he wasn't looking at the floor. The left side of his face was bright red and there was a little bit of blood in the corner of his mouth.

            "There, we're even then.  You bit me, I hit you. Now we can all stop being stupid."

            He still looked slightly less then sober, but I seemed to have his complete and undivided eye-contact. His mouth was working like an airborne fish's.

            I searched through the junk on his desk until I found his lesson plan and threw it in his lap. "You've got five minutes. Drink some coffee, dunk your head under water, or whatever, but in five minutes you better be in that classroom and we're going to learn about Hobgoblins!" 

            I was about to leave when I noticed the bottle on the floor again. I leaned past Lupin and picked it up.

            "Do you have any more of this stuff?"

            He shook his head. 

            "Good." I turned and threw the bottle as hard as I could. It shattered against the stone wall, in a very impressive spray of liquid and glass.  Maybe I hadn't completely forgiven him. Smashing things in his office felt very good. A fancy paper weight caught my eye. But I turned and left before I lost control of the urge.

            I walked out the door and ran right into Dean Thomas. He was staring at me as if I'd grown a second head. I hoped he only heard the smashing.

            "Professor Lupin is coming to class," I said.

            Dean nodded.

            "He wasn't feeling well. He fell asleep at his desk."

            Dean nodded again.

            "So we should probably get back to class then."

            Dean nodded a third time. I walked past his, down the hall towards the Defense classroom. I heard him following after me.

            I spent the afternoon sweating. I caught Dean staring at me five times during defense class, twice during lunch, and four times during potions.  I considered bringing the matter to Dumbledore's attention. He told me to tell him if anyone else found out about my problem. He said he'd take care of "slip ups."  I really didn't like the under tone of "take care of" though. It sounded as if it would involve extortion or memory charms, and I wasn't fond of either. I didn't mention it to Ron or Hermione either. They'd worry, and then I'd worry about what they'd do because they were worried. Dean probably only heard the bottle smashing anyway. If he hadn't called me a werewolf in front of the school yet, he probably hadn't over heard that part. I kept telling my self that he hadn't heard anything important, until he cornered me in the Gryffindor common room.

            I was going to meet Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall for dinner. I had my hand on the edge of the Fat Lady's portrait when it swung forward out of my grasp. I came face to shirt front with Dean Thomas. I tried to go around him but his arm shot out and blocked my way. He snatched his arm back almost immediately, as if worried I'd bite him. I saw his face and I knew that he knew. 

The problem was that knowing that he knew was not even half of what I needed to know. I mean, I knew that his birthday was in April, and that his parents are muggles, and that his favorite class is Defense Against the Dark Arts, but "do you have any strong personal dislike of werewolves" had never come up in a conversation.

I backed into the common room, and he followed, watching me very carefully.  The room was empty of witnesses and I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.  I considered running up to the third year dorm, but Dean could follow me there just as easily.

"Hi DeEEEn." I hate it when my voice cracks.

"I heard what you said to Lupin." His voice was completely flat.

"…er…you did?"

"You're werewolves."

Deny it? Beg him not to tell? Get Dumbledore? Kick him in the groin and run? I hate decisions like this. I fell back on the basic tenets of adolescence. I shrugged, and tried to look very uninterested.

"You said Professor Lupin bit you," he continued.

Kick and run were starting to look very good. "Not on purpose," I said. I tried to sound bored, but my voice was shaking too much.

"You turned into a werewolf. That's why you were in the hospital last month. That's why Professor Lupin's been acting strange around you."  

I shrugged again. The sweating was getting worse. I tried to casually adjust my glasses, and managed to poke myself in the eye. My left hand was not quite up to speed. 

"So that's where you were bit," Dean said, pointing at my arm.

The sleeve of my robes had slid up a little and the edge of the still pink scar was showing. Madam Pomfrey told me it would never fade away. It was another type of curse scar. I think I'm officially a collector of those now.  I thought "what the hell?" and rolled up the sleeve the rest of the way. Dean gasped. I didn't think it looked all that much like a bite mark. The werewolf had shaken its head around while it was chomping, so the scar was big and ragged. I suppose I could blame it on some sort of muggle farming accident. I look like the kind of person who would stick my arm in a grain thresher, don't I?

"Did it hurt?"

I gave Dean a "you're the stupidest person on the face of the planet look, and nodded.  We stood there in strained silence for a couple of minutes. I finally had to ask.

"What do you want Dean?"

"What do you mean what do I want?" He asked suspiciously.

"Why are you telling me that you know? What do you want?"

"I was just thinking. It's a hard thing to keep quiet, you know? It's a lot of work. I've looked up the laws. You could go to Azkaban. Professor Lupin could die. It's very important that no one finds out, right?"       

            "You want money? Is that it? I haven't got that much…"

            Dean cut me off. "Hey! I didn't say anything like that!"

            "Then what…"

            He cut me off again. "I just wanted to say, I wanted to say that if you need help, with an alibi or something, I'm there, right?"

            "Oh.…er…th-th-thank you." I didn't really know what I should say.

            "No problem. Professor Lupin's going to stay then?"

            "I think so."

            "Good. I'll see you around."

            Dean started to go up stairs but stopped halfway.

            "Oh, and I wouldn't let Seamus find out if I were you. His grandfather was one of the most famous werewolf hunters in Ireland.  I visited him last summer, and they've got a head mounted above the fire place. Cheers then."

            He jogged up the stairs out of sight, and I stumbled out the portrait, heading for dinner. I wasn't sure if I felt better or worse, but I could definite use some cookies.  


	22. A Most Unpleasant Weekend

Disclaimed

Author's note: Thank you for reviewing.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 22: A Most Unpleasant Weekend**

            It wasn't the thirteenth, but it turned out to be a very awful Friday.

"Stop making idiotic faces and drink, Potter. You don't have all day," 

            I couldn't stop from making one final sour face before gulping down the last of the Wolfsbane Potion.  I handed the goblet back to Snape. He took it carefully, as if it were going to explode, then gave me a look that clearly asked "what the hell are you still doing in my office?"  I left.

            You'd think saving someone's life would incline them to be a little more polite, if not out right grateful. But, if anything, Snape's intolerance of me only increased. In the past few weeks, he taken a total of fifty points from Gryffindor for my "insolent behavior", "slovenly work habits", "excessive stirring", "poor penmanship", and "horrendous redolence", (which Hermione later explained to me meant terrible smell.)  Snape couldn't stand being in the same room as me. I noticed he left the Great Hall, almost immediately after I came in. He kicked me out of potions tutoring early, or he left the room and came back at the end of the scheduled session to fail my assignment. The only good thing about it was he no longer gave me detentions. I suppose he didn't want to have to oversee them.  I've got to learn to repress my hero reflex. The next werewolf can have him.         

            I was short of breath by the time I got to Professor Lupin's office. I should've felt exhausted, but I didn't. Despite feeling deprived of air, I don't think I'd ever felt more awake.  I'd tried to get extra sleep on Thursday night. I only spent an hour playing fetch with the dog out by Hagrid's hut, after classes got out. I'd skipped dinner and gone to bed at eight o'clock, but I couldn't keep my eyes closed. I got up and paced for a half hour. My stomach was tying itself in acid soaked knots. I'd gone back to the common room and Ron stayed up with me until three in the morning, playing chess. 

I knocked on the door and it opened. Professor Lupin ushered me inside. He closed the door and began muttering spells. He was locking it, so no one would stumble in on two werewolves. He was also putting up magical sound proofing, so no one would hear us screaming. I tried to chew my nails and found they'd gotten too short to participate.

            "Nervous?"

            I answered Sirius' question by shouting incoherently and tripping backwards over the hem of my robe. I hadn't seen him standing in the shadows next to the bookshelf. He pulled me to my feet. Lupin was still working on the door.

            The office had been cleaned up quite a bit since my last visit. The papers were gone from the floor and desk, and I saw a file cabinet in the corner that had been buried under a pile of cloaks before. The desk and chairs had been pushed against the wall, so there was a lot of open floor space. The smell of brandy hadn't entirely faded away. 

            "How long?" I asked Sirius.

            He pointed to a clock on the wall; nineteen minutes until moon rise. 

            I spent most of that time pacing. My stomach rolled, twisted, and kicked. Sirius told me I should sit down several times, and I tried to, but I knew something terrible was coming, and couldn't get rid of the urge to run from it. I looked at the clock every few seconds. The hands sped up as moonrise approached. 

            "Harry, take off your shoes," Lupin said, with five minutes to go.

            "Why?"

            "Your clothes don't transform with you. You should take off anything you'll need later."

            I nodded and untied my shoes, and pulled off my socks. Sirius put them up on top of the bookshelf.  I loosened the collar of my robes.  I figured I could kick them off without too much trouble after…after it happened. 

            "Give me your glasses, Harry," Sirius said.

             "But I won't be able to see," I said. I don't know how I expected to keep them on my face. I've never seen a dog wearing glasses, but I was still reluctant to take them off.

            "You'll get by without them," he said. 

            I handed them over. The far edges of the room were blurry and indistinct, but I could still see the clock. One minute left. 

            Professor Lupin's office didn't have any windows, but I was sure the east wall was glowing a little bit with diffuse moonlight. There was a disturbing burning sensation growing in my bones and skin, and my arms were starting to twitch.  I needed to get out. If I was somewhere else, it wouldn't happen.  

            "I've changed my mind. I don't want to do this anymore," I said. 

            I backed into the corner. The burning feeling was growing, and the walls seemed to be stretching upwards around me.

            "Harry. Calm down. It will pass in a few minutes," Lupin said.

            "No. No. No. I don't want to do this. I want to go outside."

            I edged toward the door but Sirius stepped in the way. My legs started twitching and I fell to the floor. Sirius reached towards me.

            "NO!" Lupin shouted.  His voice was so horse it was barely recognizable. "Sirius, change! If you get scratched by accident…" 

Lupin trailed off.  I turned towards him. My vision was turning red at the edges, but in the center I could see him clearly. Grayish brown hair sprouted around his eyes and spread over the rest of his skin.  His face stretched out like clay pulled by some invisible hand.  He clenched his jaw and as huge canine teeth pushed though his gums they cut his lips. He fell over and his loose robes hid the rest of his transformation from view. He screamed, but by then I'd lost interest in him anyway.

I was too busy staring at my hands. What started out as a pinching feeling at the tips of my fingers rapidly escalated to a tearing sensation. Pointed claws pushed up from under my nails. My hands felt as if they'd been smashed with a sledgehammer. As I watched my fingers jammed themselves back into my hands, which were stretching and sprouting short black hair.  I looked for Sirius, and saw the dog watching me intently. 

I managed to keep from screaming, until the transformation started working on my head. My skull was in a vice. I could feel my jaw growing and it made nauseating clicking noises that reverberated around in my ears. It felt as if someone was pulling out my teeth with pliers. The walls bulged and twisted until my brain was scrambled. Everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again all the color had faded from the room. The torches on the wall burned with wobbly white light, and the furniture seemed taller. The world had grown a little wider, and a lot flatter. The whole place stank. It felt like my nose was full of worms. All the different scents were making me dizzy. Well dizzier. 

I got to my feet and immediately fell over again. Part of my brain told me to stand up on my hind legs, and another part said "lay back down, you don't feel well." Yet another part was telling me I had to go sniff at the strangers in the room, and figure out whose territory was where. I tried to groan but the sound that came out of my mouth was high and whiney. 

I was going to close my eyes and try to sleep a bit more, but something cold and wet pressed against my side. I jumped to my feet, all four of which tried to move in the wrong directions. I did manage to turn around and face the source of my discomfort. The black dog was sniffing at me. He whined and his tail wagged. His blue eyes had become an indistinct gray. The different parts of my brain were arguing again. "Tell him you're alright," "Fight until you know who's in charge," and "Sniff him!" were all vying for expression. I whined again.

The dog walked up to me, and bumped me with his shoulder. Then he trotted past me to a pile of cloth on the floor by the desk. He started sniffing and nudging the pile with his nose. I stumbled over to join him. Parts of me were still arguing over the proper order and placement of feet for walking.  The pile of clothes shuddered and shook. The dog kept nosing at it.

A gray blur burst out of the cloth and skidded to a stop on the other side of the room. The wolf was larger then me, but not quite as massive as the dog. Its fur stood on end and it growled. I sniffed the air. The arguments in brain rose to an unbearable volume.  I couldn't tell what was coming from where. 

"_The one who bit you!__ Kill him. Pack. Professor Lupin. His fault. Who's the leader? Fight. He'll get you first. Fight. Blood. Someone is afraid. Fight. That's Professor Lupin! He bit you. Fight. Where am I? You can smell his fear. Sirius Help! Fight!"_

Low growling rumbled from my between my clenched teeth. The gray wolf charged me. My feet suddenly knew what they were doing. I darted left and as he turned, I lunged for his throat. There was fir up my nose and blood in my mouth. The black dog circled us barking. I knew I should let go, but I didn't.

"Harry, eat your soup."

"I'm not hungry." The healing potions I drank earlier were still causing turmoil in my stomach.

"Eat it anyway."

When I didn't reach for the spoon, Sirius snatched it up off the tray.

"Am I going to have to make whooshing noises and stuff this in your mouth for you? I was good at that when you were an infant you know."

"You're not funny," I said, crossing my arms. I looked out the window of my room in the hospital wing. Sirius had brought Lupin and me to see Madam Pomfrey the second the moon set. Luckily we weren't spotted on the way. Well I was assuming we weren't spotted. I wasn't entirely conscious for the trip. The last thing I remember before waking up here was getting pinned by the black dog as I tried to get hold of the gray wolf's throat again.

"I'm not a comedian, and you're not a baby, but there seems to be a lot of acting going on at present," Sirius said.

He looked down at the soup and gave it a halfhearted stir. "Remus will be fine Harry.  Wolves have very thick skin.  It's not as if he didn't get his digs in as well."

I rubbed at the rapidly fading scars on my chin and neck. "I thought the Wolfsbane Potions was supposed to stop us from going crazy and fighting."

"It represses the dark magic that causes the werewolf's rage," said Professor Lupin from the doorway. His face was also covered in fading scars. "The wolf's instincts are always with us. You have to learn control."    

Lupin walked to the other chair by my bed. He limped slightly.  The black dog had bitten his leg while trying to break us up. He sat stiffly. He had bags under his eyes and gray tint to his skin. I wondered if I looked like that. It had been nine hours since the transformation had ended and I still felt as if I were getting over a case of the flu combined with some sort of semi-truck accident.

"How am I supposed to control it?" I asked. "You've been doing this longer then I have and you didn't seem to have much luck."

Lupin shrugged and smiled a bit. "I didn't have much trouble until you decided to fight."

"I didn't start that! You came at me!"

"You bit first."

I was going to keep arguing, but I saw he and Sirius were exchanging looks. 

"What's so funny then?" I asked.

"Not funny really," said Sirius, "Just familiar."

"We had this same argument the first time Sirius, James, and…and Peter came to visit me. The canines had a bit of trouble deciding who was boss. Your father had to break us up several times," Lupin said.

"The next day I told Madam Pomfrey that Snape had ambushed me in the Greenhouse, so she'd give me healing potions for my face.  She didn't quiet buy my story though. I couldn't explain why I had a hoof-print in the middle of my forehead," Sirius said, and then he smiled.

 He'd smiled before, but this time it was different. For all of three seconds he didn't look disturbed, or miserable, or insane. He looked like a normal person. I thought about mentioning it, but saying "hey you finally look not crazy" would probably not do anything to extend the condition.  Three seconds with no worries was very nice though. It was over almost immediately of course.

"Harry, you read the book I gave you?" Lupin asked.

I nodded. It wasn't a very long book, only a hundred and ten pages. It explained the side effects of lycanthropy. Lupin gave it to me while he was still in the "I must look at the floor stage". He said it was the only book on lycanthropy actually written by a werewolf.  According to that text I had "moderate to violent mood swings" and "heightened aggressive reactions to stress" to look forward to in the next three to five days, as well as fatigue and muscle cramps. 

"Do you have any questions?" Lupin asked. 

"Could you please take that spoon away from Sirius? He's starting to worry me."

My attempt at a joke got a few laughs from Lupin and a snort from Sirius who waved the spoon at me threateningly. As another plus, the soup was spilled on the floor in the ensuing mock-argument about nutrition. Creamed-celery should never be made into soup anyway.

Sirius took a Portkey back to Grimmauld place Sunday afternoon. I was feeling almost back to normal by then, but still fatigued. I had a night of rushed homework to look forward to. Hermione and Ron spent most of dinner helping me write my history essay. It wasn't until we were half way back to the dorms that I realized I'd left it next to the roast carrots. Ron volunteered to get it for me, but I didn't want them thinking I was crippled or something, so I went to get it myself. I barely managed to wrestle it away from the house elf that was cleaning up. I got all the way to the third floor stairs before trouble found me.  

"Walking around all by yourself Potter? That's not very smart," said a drawling voice I immediately recognized.

 I turned.  Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were coming up the staircase behind me. 

"Get lost Malfoy." I didn't have the energy to come up with a better insult.

"That wasn't very polite," Malfoy said cheerfully. "I think we're going to have to teach you some manners."

His goons rushed passed him and grabbed my arms, shoving me against the banister. I wished very hard that I hadn't left my wand in the dormitory. Malfoy swaggered up to me and smiled.  He had his wand in his right hand and he was rolling it across the back of his fingers in what I am sure he thought was a very impressive display of dexterity.

"So Potter, which do you want first, the curses or the beating?"

Malfoy looked down at me, smirking. _They're in your space. Malfoy thinks he's in control. He thinks he's better then you._ The thoughts floated up into my mind and I had the sudden urge to start biting people. I didn't want to just fight to escape, I wanted to sink my teeth into something and tear off pieces. I could hear my heart blasting in my ears all of a sudden.  The tiredness faded into the background and a burning twitching feeling bubbled up to replace it. Malfoy stepped back, looking at the floor with wide eyes. 

There was a puddle of clear slimy liquid on the stones between us, and as I tilted my head down to see where it had come from, another trail of drool fell from my mouth, adding to it. I suddenly noticed my lips had pulled back from my teeth with out my higher brain's consent. I also noticed I didn't mind terribly much. I looked at Crabbe, then Goyle, who were starting to look a bit uncomfortable with their assigned task.

"First, first, first?" I said. "First I think you aught to see something. It's cool. Spiffy even." My voice was a lot lower then I remember it being. 

Crabbe and Goyle tugged on my arms in an attempt to reestablish menace. It didn't bother me much, but it gave Malfoy a bit of his confidence back. Maybe he remembered it was three to one, and that one was unarmed.

"What should I see Potter?"

I pulled hard with my right arm. Crabbe was holding that one, standing on the step below me. He pulled harder, trying to prevent my escape. I planted my feet against the side of my step, and suddenly pulled with my left arm instead. For a second Crabbe and I were both pulling in the same direction, and this was more then enough to pull Goyle, on the step above me, off his feet. I'd started a human avalanche and the stairs weren't wide enough for Malfoy to get out of the way. 

If I'd been thinking I wouldn't have done it. If the staircase had decided to move just then we'd all have tumbled to our deaths, but as it turned out we ended up relatively unharmed on the landing right below. Instincts and reflexes that weren't really mine kept me from ending up on the bottom of the pile.  Malfoy was pinned under a rather stunned Goyle, whose head had apparently connected with Crabbe's foot in the fall. Malfoy's eyes were glued to me, and in some part of my brain it registered that I was still drooling.

"What's the matter Malfoy? Not impressive enough? I could show you this thing Sirius Black taught me. It's quite keen. You want to see that, don't you?" I said, circling through the small area of the landing.

If Malfoy's eyes got any wider they'd pop right out of his head.  He opened his mouth like he was going to yell but no sound came out. I think he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

"Was that a 'No' Malfoy? You'll have to speak up."

"No." His voice was so quite I think only I heard it.

Crabbe pulled himself out of the tangle of limbs. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. If he got his wand out, I was in trouble. He staggered a bit, unsteady on his feet._ Push him over the railing._ The thought came from so deep inside my head I almost mistook it for mine. I took half a step towards him before I regained control.     

"What's going on here?" demanded a loud voice, coming from the floor below.

I didn't stop to see who it was. I turned and ran for Gryffindor tower.


	23. Grappling with Bad Luck

Disclaimed

Author's Notes: Sorry the update took sooooooo long. My excuses are thus: midterm, term paper, midterm, midterm, finals in progress. Thank you for your patience and reviews.

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 23: Grappling with Bad Luck**

            The lights faded from the room, until only the dementor remained visible, gliding slowly towards me.  I swore to myself I wouldn't pass out again, but my knees started to buckle anyway. I needed a happier memory. My first trip to Hogwarts produced a thin silver mist, but that wasn't going to cut it. As the slimy gray hands stretched out in an almost beckoning gesture, I thought of last Christmas.

            "You should be sleeping in the hospital wing, Harry," Hermione said. 

            "I'm not going to sleep through Christmas."

            "I'm not suggesting you sleep through Christmas, but climbing about putting up decorations is not good for your condition."

            "He's not the one doing the climbing!" Ron objected, wobbling and nearly falling from his precarious perch on the mantle.

            "That's not what I meant."

            "But it's what you said," Ron retorted. "Hand me more of the gold tinsel."

            I scooped up a handful and made my way over to Ron. My arm shook as I reached up toward him, and as soon as he took it from me I sank down to the floor, light headed. Hermione rushed over too me, as if I were a septuagenarian who'd just tumbled down an escalator. I managed to get up without her help though. It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening and I still felt like the gum under someone's shoe. Why did the full moon have to show up on Christmas Eve? It wasn't going to ruin Christmas though. I wouldn't let it. I staggered over to a couch and slumped down. The common room was nearly finished anyway. 

            I thought it looked better then the Great Hall. We'd even set up a little table with candy and snacks from Hogsmead. It wasn't a real dinner, but I think we had something from every food group. Sweet, fatty, and salty were all well covered, and the caramel apples might even count as fruit.  I'd put dog treats out as a joke as well, for the guest of honor.

            I was most proud of the Christmas tree. We'd made it by transfiguring a coat-rack from the second floor. By we, I mean Ron and I brought it up here, attempted to transfigure it, and then had to beg Hermione for help. I still can't believe how good a job she did. The tree even smelled real. We'd put all our Christmas presents under it, after agreeing to open them during the party. The whole thing looked very Christmassy. At least I thought it did. What if it didn't though? What if it just looked pathetic and stupid? What if he hated it, or it reminded him of Azkaban and he spent the whole evening spaced out and muttering? What if the Ministry threw a surprise Christmas inspection and walked in on us all?

            I was about to suggest in panic, that we cancel the whole thing, when someone knocked on the portrait. The fat lady objected loudly and shrilly to being knocked on. I pried myself out of the couch and went to the door. I pushed open the frame. Professor Lupin was standing in the hallway, tipped oddly to the left, and looking not quite conscious. 

            "Can we come in then?" asked Sirius' disembodied voice. 

            It took me a moment to recall that I'd loaned him my cloak of invisibility. I nodded and stepped aside, so he could help Professor Lupin through the portrait.  I was about to shut the entrance when I saw Professor Dumbledore coming up the hallway, with a large Christmas package under his arm. He was followed closely by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall.   Hagrid had a package under his arm as well, and it was moving. I got out of the way so they could come in. I'd asked Hagrid to come by. I guess Hermione had invited the other teachers, or maybe they just decided to crash. It's not as if we could say anything about it if they did. I was worried it would be awkward with them hanging around, but things turned out alright. Better then alright really. 

Professor Lupin slept through most of the party, but provided a lot of the entertainment. The transformation seemed worse for him, but maybe that was because he was so old, almost forty. Sirius put him in one of the arm chairs, and whenever he started snoring Sirius would take decorations from the tree and add them to Lupin's attire, until he woke up again.  Hermione looked like she was going to object to the blatant abuse of a teacher, until Sirius gave her a conspiratal smile and bet her a galleon she couldn't hang two glass unicorn ornaments from Lupin's ears without waking him up. She won that bet by the way.

            Dumbledore opened the box he'd brought. It turned out to be full of crackers, and soon the room was full of confetti, pinkish smoke and bizarre party favors.  Hagrid got a wind up toy monkey that clapped little symbols together and told bad jokes in Latin. Well I assumed they were bad jokes. My Latin isn't that good. Professor McGonagall's cracker showered everyone in the room with catnip and live mice. Lupin woke up for a bit when a mouse ran down the front of his robes. He kept his eyes open long enough to pull apart a cracker with Sirius, though he didn't appear inclined to keep the loudly singing rubber chicken that fell out of it.      

            Hagrid was trying to get people to guess what was in the box he brought. Whenever the box came within three feet of Crookshanks, the cat would hiss and all the hair on its body would stand on end. The box was addressed to Hermione, Ron, and I, but none of us was particularly eager to open it. 

            The evening rushed on and people started munching on the snacks we'd set up. Professor McGonagall was looking over the table when I noticed a horrendous problem. We'd yet to show Sirius his dog treats, and before I could shout a warning Professor McGonagall had popped one in her mouth. Ron was looking as well, and I saw his mouth drop open. Our Head of House picked up another dog treat, and Ron started to get a little pale.

            McGonagall turned towards Dumbledore. "Albus you must try these."

            Dumbledore looked at Ron and I, before cheerfully smiling and crunching up one of the tiny bone shaped biscuits. "They taste a bit like bacon," he said, his eyes crinkling in poorly concealed laughter.  

Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore left at a little past nine.  They claimed they intended to invite Professor Snape to Hogsmead for a drink, before the evening came to an end. We wished them good luck, to be polite.

"I've gotta be heading out too," Hagrid said. "Gotta' give all a' the class creatures their Christmas presents.  Bought forty pound of raw liver this mornin'. Before I go I wanted you three ter have this."

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"Well, it's a surprise. I don't want ter ruin it," the huge man responded. 

He handed the bucking hopping box to Hermione, Ron, and me.  Sirius came forward curiously, leaning over our shoulders. I pulled at the large, vomity colored ribbon, and noticed with great relief that Hermione was holding her wand, incase our present needed to be restrained. The ribbon came loose, and the box went still. I started slowly peeling the tape off of the wrapping paper.  I lifted the lid of the box and found it was filled with shredded bits of the _Daily Prophet_. They gave an ominous rustle as I reached over the edge.  I swallowed.

"Hagrid would you say this surprise was little, say like a gopher, or big, like a flying piranha?" I asked.

"Oh its much better then any a those things."

"…er…right."

I took a big breath of air incase the surprise produced some kind of poisonous vapor, and pulled the shredded _Prophet_ out. I sighed in relief. At the bottom of the box, a gray speckled kitten sat curled up in a ball. Its face was hidden in a corner of the box, and its pointed ears twitched. I laughed a little and Hermione put her wand away. 

Hermione smiled and reached into the box. 

"Hagrid! Why'd you get us all wound up for a ca..AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The creature uncurled as Hermione lifted it, and we got a full view of its head. A miniature human face grinned at us from the front of the kitten's skull. Crookshanks charged, hissing, and the creature slid out of Hermione's hand. It ran around us, and vaulted over the sleeping Professor Lupin.  Crookshanks stayed on it's heals, and for a second I thought the cat had it cornered. Then the strange little animal winked at me, and ran up the wall. It disappeared into the tinsel hung from the ceiling and emitted a high disturbing giggle.    

"That's a Pooka," Sirius said conversationally.

Hagrid nodded. "Sure is. I got the little fella from a friend of mine in Ireland, no charge. Seems his previous owner died unexpectedly."

Ron made a funny sound. I couldn't tell if it was a hiccup or gagging.  

"A…A…A…pooka?" Hermione said. I could tell she was trying to come up with a friendly way to tell Hagrid to take the horrible thing back. "What…why…er…how are we going to take care of a pooka? Don't they need a special diet or something?"

"No, a pooka'll eat just about anything."

"What if he doesn't like being in the castle?" I asked, hoping the animal was claustrophobic.  

"If he didn't like yeh, there'd be a smell."

G_oody_.

"What if…what if…" I had nothing.

"Don't you kid's worry, I'm sure you'll get along famously. Well I've got ter be off. Happy Christmas!"

Hagrid left. 

The three of us looked at each other, and as one our eyes went to the suspicious quivering tinsel hanging over our heads. When Sirius put a hand on my shoulder I let out an incredibly embarrassing noise. Not a shriek exactly, but close.

"I don't know if I can top a Pooka," he said, "but I've got a few things for you kids too."

"Pooka repellent?" asked Ron.

"Not quite."

Sirius took his wand from the sleeve of his robe and waved it. A puff of smoke jetted from the end and settled to the floor. When it cleared three festively wrapped packages lay before us. The dense book shaped one was addressed to Hermione.  What was obviously a bird cage wrapped in maroon paper bore Ron's name. A final long rectangular package was labeled "Harry." We all picked up our gifts. The rectangular package was heavy and I could feel a handle under the paper on one side. I tried to think of what would be in such a case, and I was struck with the sudden suspicion that Sirius had decided I needed a muggle rifle. The package was about the length of the gun Uncle Vernon had unsuccessfully attempted to frighten Hagrid with two years ago. 

"What ever you're thinking is way off," Sirius said cheerfully. I hoped he was right.

I was about to tear off the paper when I remembered the gift I'd gotten for Sirius. I got to my feet. I was starting to feel a bit like Lupin looked, but I made it to the tree and back alright.  You'd think it would be easy to shop for an escaped convict, but it really isn't. I'd finally settled on a set of sunglasses that were charmed to make the wearer unrecognizable. He looked surprised when I put the package in his hands, then he got really strange look. Worried he'd go into a muttering fest, I suggested we all unwrap our gifts on the count of three.

Before I could start the count down a high giggling voice called from over head, "Three-two-one," followed by a high tittering laugh. Sirius shrugged and we went to work. Ron got a crazy miniature gray owl. Hermione got a book on O.W.L.s preparation. I got the paper off of the case, and opened the latches.

I almost shouted "FIREBOLT" instead of "EXPECTO PATRONUM." I caught my self in time. A silver light flew from the end of my wand and I couldn't see anything for a few seconds. I heard the clack of the latches on the trunk, and I knew Professor Lupin had put the Bogart back in storage.  The cold faded from the room before my vision was all the way back to normal, but I had a clear look at a silver glowing stag walking soundlessly across the room towards me before it faded into mist and vanished.

"Very good Harry," said Professor Lupin from behind me. 

I turned. He was rubbing his eyes and blinking. Perhaps there should be a "do not look directly at the Patronus" warning.

"Are you feeling alright? Do you need some chocolate?" he asked.

"No thanks, I'm perfectly fine," I said.

"Good." Lupin paused, and looked towards the door. "Are you feeling alright about other things as well?"

I nodded. I wished he wouldn't bring it up, but I knew he would.

"There have been no further incidents with Mr. Malfoy?" Lupin asked. 

If I'd done anything he'd already know. He was probably trying to be polite by asking, but it was getting on my nerves. The "incident" was over four months ago, and Lupin was still acting nervous about it. At least he'd stopped giving speeches on self control.

"I've killed him actually, and disposed of the body in last Thursday's potpie."

"Harry it's not a joke."

"I know. I haven't been in anymore fights. And I've got the aggression related drooling under control as well."

"It all gets easier with time," he said sagely. 

I was tempted to point him to a mirror. Lupin wouldn't be questioned if he tried to get senior discount at a restaurant. I'd only transformed four times, and I was already noticing gray hairs. And it's not as if I was looking for them. I don't spend hours in the bathroom preening or anything, but they really stand out.  I'd asked Ron and Hermione for suggestions and it spurned a three hour argument about whether gray hair should be plucked or dyed.

Maybe Lupin meant something metaphorical, or maybe he was trying to pass off some technicality as great wisdom. Lycanthropy shortens your life, so you have less time, and therefore it's easier to deal with.  I started feeling depressed right then, so I knelt down and started rummaging through my backpack, for a way to change the subject. I guess Lupin saw it was bothering me, because he switched to a new topic before I found one. 

 "Have you spoken to Professor Snape about rescheduling?"

"I'm going to ask when we finish here. If I go to his office too early I might run into some Slytherins." I said.

Lupin nodded. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something else as well, Harry. You've caught up with the rest of the class, and honestly you've gotten more then a bit ahead of them. The fifth and seventh year students are preparing for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. They're very behind, and if they are all going to pass they will need more tutoring, and there for more office hours…"

I cut off his rambling. "So I'm no longer required to attend catch up lessons every other night?"  

I didn't want to stop coming. Lupin was a good teacher and it felt rather like I was being kicked out. I pretended to be happy about it though, so he wouldn't feel guilty. "Are we done then?"

He nodded, and I packed up my quills and notes.

"It's just one day."

            "Perhaps you need your hearing checked. I said no."

            "You rescheduled the entire season for Malfoy's arm."

            "I did."

_            Punching Snape won't help.  Punching Snape won't help. Punching Snape won't help_. I tried to listen to the little voice, but there were much louder parts of me screaming less useful advice. I managed to shut them all up for a moment.

            "Why won't you?"

            "Potter, if I make special allowances for you, despite our well known animosity, it will draw unwanted and dangerous attention to you and your…condition." He sounded perfectly honest, but he couldn't keep the mean little smile from twitching the corners of his mouth.  "Gryffindor will just have to make do without their seeker."

            _Oh go ahead and hit him_ said the little voice. I didn't though. I walked to the doorway, and turned to face him.

            "I'll be on the pitch Saturday," I said. "It's not as if I have to be fully awake to beat Malfoy to the snitch. I don't even know why I asked. It's not as if you owe me anything."

            He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. I slammed the door behind me.

            The plus side was I got to walk all the way back to Gryffindor tower feeling morally superior. But the common room robbed me of my righteous anger. Oliver Wood was sitting in front of the fire, going over hundreds of pages of notes on Quidditch strategy he'd compiled in his seven years at Hogwarts. Beside his chair were huge stacks of textbooks about the sport, and for reasons known only to Wood and God, a manikin in Quidditch robes.

            "Hello Oliver," I said carefully.

            "Harry, come here, I need you to see something."

            "It doesn't involve the manikin does it?"

            "What? No. Of course not. I need you to read this book of plays from the Brazilian national team, and then you have to look at these diagrams from the New Zealand vs. India match of 1926. They had to play a man short and it's very important that we all understand the dynamic of…"

            "Oliver, have you reviewed for your N.E.W.T.s at all yet?" I interrupted.

            He gave me a "You're stupid" look, then said, "I'll have a whole week to review after the championship game."

            "Oh, right." I took the books from him and headed to my dorm room. "I'll just start on these then."

            Wood nodded. 

            That night I sat on my bed thinking, and it was very unpleasant. I started wishing that something would happen, that there would be some miracle, where Malfoy lost his arm in a potions accident, or Flint got his foot stuck in a bear trap and couldn't be found in time for the game. I even wished the Weasley twins would get themselves suspended for some prank, so it wouldn't be all my fault when we lost the championship.  I only had two real options though. Either I quit the team now so they have time to train a replacement, or I go to the game feeling like something the fell out the backend of an elephant. 

            At midnight I got up and wrote a letter to Sirius, begging advice. I crept to the owlery, without my cloak of invisibility. I half hoped I'd be caught by Filch and given some sort of Saturday spanning detention, but neither he nor his evil cat showed. I tied the letter to Hedwig's foot, and she left with a quiet hoot. I stood there for a long time, looking at the slowly swelling moon that would be full by Friday night. I was starting to feel tired, but I didn't want to go back to the dorm yet. It was crowded and stuffy and complicated, unlike the owlery, which was airy and isolated, and except for the owl turds everywhere, was a very nice place to sit and think. I didn't figure out that I'd fallen asleep until someone shook my shoulder to wake me up. I was sitting propped up against the wall, with my glasses still on, so I had no trouble seeing the girl who woke me. Unfortunately some part of my brain failed me, and I was unable to form a coherent sentence.

            "Hu?" I said.

            "You were asleep," said Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker.

            She was wearing her school robes, but she still had slippers on her feet. She was smiling a little bit, and I couldn't figure out who was supposed to say what. She went to one of the school owls and tied an envelope to its leg. After it flew off, she turned back to me, still smiling. My voice started functioning, though whether or not I had any mental involvement in my speech was questionable.

            "Oh, right yeah. Hi. Good morning I mean. What time is it?" 

            "Are you all right?" Cho asked. 

            My face decided right then to turn bright red. "I'm well thanks…er…how are you?"

            "I'm ok. You're not sick are you?"

            "No, I just came up here last night to mail a letter. I guess I fell asleep."

            "That's good. Everyone's waiting for you to beat Slytherin on Saturday. We're all cheering for you. It would be awful if you got ill before the match."

            "Me? Sick? No I'll be fine. Everything's good. I like your slippers."

            She laughed nervously, and turned to leave.

            _Where is a cobble stone so that I might smash my own brains out?_ I looked at the floor until I heard Cho walk out. She called "good bye" as she left.   

            Cho was going to cheer for me. That thought was taking up almost all of my brain. It was rather like have a beach ball crammed inside my skull. There was no other choice then. _When Saturday comes I've got to be on the pitch._  I began to form a plan as I ran back to Gryffindor tower for my books and clothes. I came up with the finished product as I was fighting the Pooka for my socks. If the plan didn't kill me, Hermione would.


	24. I Will Not Stay Down: I'M Not That Smart

Disclaimed

Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait. Thank you for waiting!

The Basement By Marz Chapter 24:  I Will Not Stay Down: I'm Not That Smart 

            A second before he shoved me under the freezing water, I considered abandoning the plan. Unfortunately I was not quite coherent enough to voice my altered state of mind. All I could do was bleat like a miserable sheep as the water soaked through my pajamas and poured over my head. I tried to get out, but was pushed firmly back into the icy stream. Only when I was shivering so hard that my knees knocked together, was I allowed to escape. A mug was pushed into my hands.

            "Drink. You have five more cups to get down before the match," said Ron.

            "How long?" I asked.

            "19 minutes."

            I took the coffee from Ron and started chugging. My eyes tried to sink closed again, even as the scalding liquid ran down my throat. Ron walked to the other side of the room, and leaned out the door. I could hear him whispering with Hermione, who'd been stationed in front of the prefect's bathroom to keep watch. It was bad enough that Madam Pomfrey was stalking us through the halls, but Snape had suddenly developed "a great concern for my well being" and was trying to put me back in the hospital, safely away from the championship match.    

            Sirius would've covered for me. He'd have told the nurse that I had gone back to the dormitory to sleep. He'd probably even have helped me sneak out to the pitch. For the hundredth time I wondered where he was. He wouldn't just miss my transformation. 

            "It's still clear," Ron reported, throwing me a towel.

            My eye's felt gritty and wouldn't stay focused. Every part of me ached. It felt like worms were trying to drill their way out of my skull. I emptied the mug and held it out for a refill. My stomach was churning and sour, but I started on the second cup right away. Hermione had refused to make the Draft of Sleepless Nights, or any other potions to help me make it through the game. She said they'd ruin my health. At least she didn't turn me into the hospital Matron.

            There was a knock on the door, and a moment later Fred and George sidled in. 

            "We've brought your Quidditch robe," said George.

            "…as requested," said Fred.

            "We were going to ask,"

"…why you wouldn't come down to the locker rooms,"

            "…but then Snape arrived,"

            "…and wouldn't leave."

            "He confiscated your Firebolt,"

            "Well, he thought he did."

            "We put one of Mr. Filch's brooms in the case."

            "The real one is in Angelina's locker."

            "Thanks," I said.

            The twins handed over the robes and I went into one of the stalls to change. My hands shook as I did up the buttons, and I wasn't sure if the cause was the exhaustion, the cold water, or the caffeine.

            "Is there a reason you decided to take a shower fully dressed?" Called Fred, or George, since they sound exactly alike.

            _Because If I passed out, I didn't want to be found naked; Because I was too out of it to take them off on my own and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask for help; Because its hard to fall asleep in freezing wet pajamas._ I didn't say any of that out loud of course. I pulled on my boots and came out of the stall. I staggered. The room seemed to be tilted to the right, but as I tried to compensate I lost what little balance I had left. 

            Ron helped me up off the floor, and I managed to take three steps before I had to grab the edge of a sink for balance. I closed my eyes and hung on, until the room's violent tilting faded to a milder feeling of displaced motion. I looked in the mirror above the sink. The reflections of three Weasleys watched me with great concern and suspicion. I took a moment to inspect my self. 

            The circles around my eyes were so dark they looked almost like bruises. My mouth was colorless and my lower lip was quivering as if I was about to burst into tears. My eyes were blood shot and the pupils were dilated. I had to close them again as a wave of nausea ran through me, but I didn't retch.

            When I was able to look around again, Fred and George were standing on either side of me.

            "Harry, you know we'd be the last people on earth to suggest this,"

            "…but maybe you'd better sit this one out,"

            "…rather then passing out."

            "I'm fine." I said, swallowing hard to make sure the coffee stayed down.  

            "That is very clearly not true," said George.

            As one, they turned to face Ron.

            "So tell us little brother,"

            "…what's ailing our Seeker?"

            Ron shrugged, and they advanced on him, dragging me along.

            "Ron, you have to tell us," said Fred.

            "It's one of those situations where you have to tell an adult,"

            "…or at least us."

            Ron shrugged again and tried not to make eye contact with his brothers.

            We were saved from further inquiry by Hermione.  She ducked in the door and slammed it behind her, then leaned against it, as if expecting a battering ram to strike in the next moment.

            "Snape's coming."

            "Plan B!," announced Ron, "Everybody out the window, quick!"

            Fortunately we'd mapped out several escape routes from the school to the Quidditch pitch. Ron pulled open the window and boosted me and then Hermione out over the sill. We scrambled across the tiled roof, headed for a window of the Arithmancy classroom. I looked out over the grounds on the north side of the castle, but there was no large black dog in sight. 

Last night, with only two hours to go before the transformation, I'd gone up to Dumbledore's office. He agreed to check on Sirius, but sent me out of the room before he would do it. I waited outside the door, but I couldn't stop myself from listening. My hearing seemed better then usual, for I could make out every word Dumbledore said.

            "Phineas, I need you to check on Sirius again please."

            "Would it not be simpler just to fire call him?"

            There was a rumble of mutterings throughout the headmaster's office, and I couldn't help but feel disconcerted. I could hear voices, but none of the normal human sounds that went with them, no rustling of clothes, no creaking of chairs or the scrape of shoes across the stone floor. The muttering died away as soon as Phineas said "fine" in a distinctly immature manner. I hopped away from the door, and tried to look as if I had been politely and patiently waiting several steps away, but no one came out, and it was not more then three minutes before Phineas' voice returned.

            "He's gone already, Dumbledore. Don't expect me to know where."

            _He could have been caught. He might've gone crazy again. He could've been hit by a car. _

 Hermione tugged me out of my reverie, and across the final few yards of the roof. She had to help me climb through the window, and made worried little whining sounds the whole time. Ron caught up to us a second later.  He crawled through and we turned to watch. Fred and George didn't come out for several minutes and we were certain they'd been caught, but suddenly two red-haired blurs skidded out onto the roof, slamming the window behind them. Instead of scrambling across to us, they went to the edge and hopped over it. We were more then a little concerned by this, as we were five stories up. Ron ran down the stairs as fast as he could and we followed. When we reached the first floor, Ron was already outside inspecting the lawn. There was no indication that the twins had reached the ground in an unpleasant manner, so we continued on to the Quidditch pitch.

            I could barely breathe when we got there. We went under the stands instead of through the main gates, as Pomfrey had stationed herself in front of them. After miles and miles of scrambling, through a dark sticky labyrinth of support beams and discarded candy wrappers, we got to the outside wall of the Gryffindor locker rooms. Hermione knocked twice on the wall and there were three answering thumps, the "all clear" signal. She put her wand to a tiny pin-prick of light leaking through the wooden walls.

            "_Engorgio_!" she said.

            The hole in the wall expanded. 

            Hermione squeezed through first, and I went after, with no problem fitting, though I was too dizzy to stand again after. Ron got completely stuck. The twins came forward to help him out.

            "How'd you get down from the roof?" asked Ron as Fred grabbed one of his arms, and George the other.

            "That's one of our patented secrets I'm afraid," said George.

            "What were you doing in there anyway?" asked Hermione.

            "It occurred to us, that perhaps we'd be better off without Snape in pursuit," George said.

            "So we made a few adjustments to the doors and windows of the lavatory before we left," said Fred.

            "We improved the faucets and drains as well."

            "Does anyone know if Snape can swim?"

            "Does anyone care?" grunted Ron.

            I couldn't help the grin the crossed my face, though I pushed it aside quickly in sympathy for Ron. With a final cloth ripping tug, he came flying out of the hole and landed in a rumpled pile at Hermione's feet. She helped him up, and then both of them set me upright. Ron was rubbing at his shoulder and mumbling about a broken collarbone. 

"Good luck Harry," said Hermione. She looked as if she planed to say more, but at that moment Oliver Wood stormed into the locker room.  I could honestly say the room was full of contrasts. I felt ready to fall over unconscious, and Oliver was about to explode. Hermione and Ron slinked quickly out, trying to avoid The Wrath, or more exactly The Rant of Oliver. The rest of the team filed in as they left. Angelina handed me my Firebolt.  

            "Harry, where have you been? We've been out looking. Snape was in here saying you'd gone missing from the hospital wing. You're not sick are you? You missed the entire pre-game strategy meeting! You don't know any of the plays! How could you…"

            "Oliver," I cut him off.  I knew Oliver was stressed out of his mind by my late appearance, but I was far to close to passing out to care. "Am I involved in any part of those plays?"

            "Well not directly, but…"

            "Then does it really mater if I was here or not?" 

I sat down on the nearest bench, trying to catch my breath before the game started. I hadn't felt this dizzy on the journey under the bleachers, but now it felt as if I was inside a clothes-dryer. I can actually compare the two sensations, because my cousin Dudley and his intellectually challenged friends had, on my seventh birthday, stuffed me into one and turned it on "high" with "full-load". Fortunately the wiring in the basement blew out before I could get overly desiccated. I was grounded for a month for that by the way. I put my hands on the sides of my head, just to make sure my skull wasn't somehow oscillating.  

            Suddenly Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were surrounding me.

            "Harry, what's wrong?"

            "Harry, have you been throwing up?"

            "Do you have a fever?"

            As Katie said the last part she put her hand on my forehead to check. If I wasn't about to go into shock I would have blushed. A whistle echoed through the locker room; ten minutes until game time. I got to my feet and over balanced, falling onto Katie in a very embarrassing manner. She didn't' seem overly annoyed with me though. We headed for the pitch. 

The hallway leading to the field couldn't have been more then twenty feet long, but I didn't know if I could make it all the way to the end. Nausea and dizziness fought for dominance of my misery. I started using the handle of my Firebolt as a walking stick.  

            "Everyone ready? Everyone has their brooms?" Oliver asked. As we walked toward the pitch he began to shake slightly. "I can't stress how important this is.  The future of our Quidditch careers, as well as the honor of Gryffindor, depends on the outcome of this game. There will never be a more important day in our entire lives.  In fact if we don't live up to our full potential in the next few hours, we may as well throw ourselves in the lake."

 Screaming from the stands spilled over us. The five minute whistle shrieked, and Oliver froze mid step. 

            "I can't do this," he said.

            "Oh Merlin," Oliver continued. "I can't remember play 145! Does Katie take the Quaffle to the left and then fake a pass to Alicia or was it the other way, or maybe it was up, not left. Does anyone have a copy of the plays? I have to check!"

            "Oliver calm down," said Alicia.

            "And play 489! Were the beaters working crosswise or in the figure eight pattern? Wait! Am I left or right handed? I can't remember!"  He held an imaginary pen in each hand and tried to write his name with both, but the expression of bewilderment only settled in further. Oliver turned away from the field and looked longingly at the exit.

            Fred gave Oliver punch in the shoulder and said "Just remember, the team we're playing against would have trouble beating a tuna fish in a game of Quidditch. Slytherin isn't going to win."

            Oliver nodded but otherwise stood statue still.

            "Oliver, you'll do fine," Katie said. She walked up to Oliver and kissed him on the cheek.

            "No worries Oliver," said Alicia, who then kissed him on the other cheek.

            "What they said," said Angelina, before she kissed him on the cheek as well.

            Oliver was not longer frozen, and was blushing quite a bit. He looked almost inspired enough to play, but lingering doubt was apparent.  

Of course George Weasley knew just what to say to make sure Oliver entered the pitch with confidence, or at least great speed. As Angelina stepped back, George stepped up to Oliver, put his hands on the Keeper's shoulders, and said very solemnly, "Tongue or no tongue?"

             If Oliver doesn't make it in Quidditch, I don't think he'd have a problem getting on England's Olympic track team. He also did a very impressive shrug-spin-dodge move, to escape from George, which may indicate he missed a calling to rugby as well. I had to purposely smash my foot into the door frame to keep from laughing, but I was worried it would start me vomiting. I think Angelina cracked up enough for everyone though. The girls were still giggling when we got to the center of the field. Oliver was already hovering in the air, well out of reach of the Weasleys, and shooting them suspicious looks.  

            The Slytherins were in position as well, leering at us as we took off. They'd made a few changes to their line up. Malfoy was about half the size of the next largest player on their team. The game was going to be rough, but I actually felt a bit better as I rose into the air. I think it was in large part due to the fact that the broom was supporting most of my weight, but I never feel better then when I'm flying. I still felt as if I was being tossed about in a raging hurricane, despite the mild breeze and sunny weather, but I was starting to think I could make it. The only thing missing was Sirius.

            Sirius said he was going to be here. He said he wouldn't miss the Quidditch final for all the gold in Gringotts. _Sirius can take care of himself. He probably just forgot. He went to the market last night for bread or something, and missed that Phineas fellow, and  while he was gone, his calendar fell off the wall and a freak gust of wind blew it into the lit fire place, and he just forgot. But if he just forgot that means he didn't care that much in the first place. Maybe his port key malfunctioned and he ended up in __France__. Maybe he decided to fly up here by broom instead and got struck by lightening. Maybe he slipped in the shower and can't get to a phone. Maybe…_

            I hadn't meant to let my eyes close, but waiting for Madam Hooch to come out with the Quaffle and go over the rules, and the dull roar of the crowd, and the rocking motion of the broom as I hovered in the air, all seemed intent on letting me fall asleep. It couldn't have been more then a few seconds.

            "Hey Potter!"

            I'd missed the whistle. I looked up just in time for the quaffle to bounce off my face. I lost my grip on the broom, falling forward and slamming into the handle of my broom. My nose hurt, my eyes were watering, and my head spun faster then ever. I managed to get up again, just in time to see Oliver block Slytherins first run on the scoring rings. He threw the ball to Katie and the three chasers shot towards the Slytherin rings. A second later the crowd roared and Lee Jordan announced 10 to nothing Gryffindor.

            I shook my head, trying to clear it but that only seemed to make things worse. Clenching my teeth I pulled up on the handle of the Firebolt, gaining altitude. Malfoy was circling high above, but I could tell he hadn't seen the snitch yet. As I rose above the game a tiny sparkle of light caught my eye. I dove.

            I heard the crowd cheer as Gryffindor scored another goal. The ground rushed up at me and the dizziness nearly overwhelmed me. The edges of my vision grew dark as I plummeted. I was twenty feet above the ground when I saw it was only a foil candy wrapper. I slowed to a stop, waiting for my brain to re-congeal. I hate when people litter.  

            **WHAM!**

            I blinked up at the sky. _Way too big to be a bludger_, I thought as I sat up. Some inconsiderate person was blowing a whistle near my poor head. I stood up and staggered to my broom, which had landed only a few hundred million miles away. I looked up and saw Hooch shouting herself red in the face as Malfoy smirked at me. Lee Jordan's commentary started to sink in.

            "…PENALTY! MALFOY HAS RECEIVED AN OFFICIAL WARNING FOR RAMING ANOTHER PLAYER, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE POTTER IS BACK ON HIS FEET AGAIN!"

            I bent over to pick up my broom and lost my balance. I landed on my knees and crawled the last few inched to it. It took forever for me to get back to my feet. The shouting seemed louder then ever and I turned. 

            **WHAM!**

_            Definitely a bludger that time._  I sat up again, and that was a mistake. I turned my head aside in time to avoid messing up my uniform. As the coffee and a lot of things I don't remember eating returned, I heard Oliver call for a time out.   

            A shadow came over me and someone started patting me on the back.

            "Are you alright?" asked Alicia.

            I retched again. 

            There was a thump as Oliver landed next to us. "This is bad! This is bad! Everyone remembers plan 1547? He still has both arms but I think we can adapt it."

            I groaned. Alicia grabbed me under the arms and pulled me to my feet. Madam Hooch landed next to us.

            "Potter, are you able to continue?"

            I didn't trust myself to open my mouth so I nodded. Oliver handed me my broom so at least I didn't have to lean over again. As I took off I saw a very damp Snape and Madam Pomfrey marching across the field towards us, but Madam Hooch blew the whistle, and the game was on.

            Malfoy was marking me the second I was in the air. He wasn't taking his official warning too seriously.  He followed me all over the pitch, bumping into me when ever Hooch was out of view.  I was too sick to try anything fancy to loose him. Even the thought of a barrel roll made me gag. 

_If I throw up again I hope Malfoy's still flying this close._

In the end it wasn't a battle of skills, or will, or talent. In the end a Nimbus 2001 can't compete with a Firebolt.

            The snitch popped into view at the opposite end of the field and we saw it at the same side. I outdistanced Malfoy without bringing the broom up to its full acceleration. The stands blurred and a second later the snitch was in my hand. 

            I flew back to the Gryffindor side of the pitch. I could hear Malfoy ranting about how the broom had done all the work, and it was true. I knew it would eat at me later, but at that moment, I didn't care. All I wanted was to sit down. I landed next to Madam Hooch and handed her the snitch, so she could put it away. My head was ringing, I could feel nothing but dread as the rest of the school came spilling out of the stands to congratulate us. I wouldn't be able to sneak quietly back to the dorm and pass out. Headmaster Dumbledore walked among them, carrying the Quidditch Cup. It was the first time I was glad the season was over. 

_I just wish I could lie down._

            **WHAM!**

            _I hate irony._


	25. Bad News Is Usually Accurate

**Disclaimed**

**Author's note**: Sorry this is taking so long. L School is hard and full of midterms. When in doubt its bubble "B" right?

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 25: Bad News is Usually Accurate **

I wasn't exactly surprised to learn I'd been knocked out in an unfortunately over enthusiastic post game group hug. It did worry me a bit that nobody noticed I was unconscious until they took the team picture, and couldn't get me to hold the Quidditch Cup up straight. 

When I woke up, my head still hurt, and my ears were ringing a little bit. That may have been a valid reason to keep me in the hospital Saturday night, but Sunday was nearly over and Madam Pomfrey still refused to let me go. Well, she told me I could walk out the door, but there was a horrible condition attached.

I rolled over again and pulled up my blankets, to make certain anything the opened-back, too small hospital robes didn't cover was not in view. She'd taken all my other clothes, and charmed the blankets and sheets, so I couldn't pull them off the bed. If I made a run for it, I'd have to do it with the back half of my birthday suit exposed. I'm beginning to think Pomfrey was in Slytherin when she attended school. She wouldn't let me have any visitors either. She even put a curtain around my bed so I couldn't see the people who came in with actual injuries. I thought that was just petty of her. As I tried to fall asleep again, the door creaked open and I heard Ron's voice.

"Madam Pomfrey, could we please talk to Harry for just five minutes. He really needs to…"

She cut off Ron's plea. "Potter needs to rest and you were warned not to come in here again. I am giving you a detention Mr. Weasley. Potter will be allowed to leave when both I and the headmaster are convinced that he is well enough."

"But he needs to know about Azkaban!"

"Another detention! Out!"

"But…"

"OUT!"

I heard the nurse rushing to the door, and Ron's fleeing foot steps. There was a loud click as the door slammed shut. I closed my eyes and struggled to hear what was going on in the rest of the school.

The white curtain around my bed rustled in the light breeze. I could hear the nurse's shoes scraping across the floor at the far end of the room, and distantly I could hear other students, talking in low and fearful whispers as they passed the doors of the hospital wing. Their words were too faint to make out. I knew they were talking about something important. I was sure "Sirius Black" was being mentioned, whether I could hear it or not.  

_Azkaban_, I almost wished Ron hadn't dropped that awful clue in my lap. It was becoming apparent that my health was not the reason behind my imposed isolation, and it was making me more then a little bit mad. I put my hand to my chin just to make certain I wasn't drooling again. There was another click, and I was pretty sure that sound was Pomfrey closing her office door. If she didn't let me out in another hour, I'd have to make a run for Gryffindor tower, bare bum be damned.

I didn't have a watch with me so I tried to keep track of the time by counting seconds. I got through three minutes before I started to nod off. Don't be fooled. Counting seconds is a hundred times more effective at inducing unconsciousness then counting sheep. 

I couldn't tell what woke me at first. The room was dark except for a faint orange glow from the wall sconces. My head was cloudy with sleep, but I remembered my original plan of escape. I gave the blankets a tug, but they weren't coming with me. I'd just put my bare feet on the floor when I heard it; cloth dragging across the stones. _Pomfrey's coming to check on me. _I slid back into bed, pulled up the covers as quietly as I could, and pretended to sleep. The dragging sound came right to the edge of the curtains and paused. A deep rattling breath cut through the silence.

My eyes felt as if they were bulging out of my head as I rolled over. Every muscle was taught in an effort to keep the bed from creaking. My heart pounded in my ears. I tried to breathe more quietly. The figure silhouetted against the curtains slowly ran its long fingers across them, until it came to the edge, and curled around it.

It occurred to me, even as I was screaming bloody murder, that a dementor would have made the room noticeably cold, and would not smell as if it had been attacked by numerous competing perfume sales girls at the mall. A dementor was also unlikely to shriek right back at me and fall across the foot of my bed in an avalanche of costume jewelry and scarves. The only good thing I can say about it is that I frightened her as badly as she got me.   

"Excuse me dear," said Professor Trelawney, putting a hand to her chest and struggling to catch her breath. "I was just looking for the nurse."

"Why would she be in my bed?" I pulled up the blankets as I spoke. 

The divinations teacher got back to her feet and adjusted her outfit. "I foresaw she would be by the side of her patient," she said stiffly. 

"Maybe you should try her office first, next time." 

Her mouth twitched for a second, but she continued to stand by my bed.  "The universe is in turmoil and the clairvoyant vibrations are giving me a most retched pain." As she spoke the Divinations Professor put the back of her wrist to her forehead and went into a well practiced swoon. "I was hoping Madame Pomfrey would be able to give me some sort of potion. I fear a great danger is coming, and I must be well enough to search the mist of the future, for I see…I…see…"

Her chin suddenly dropped against her chest and the air left her lungs in one shuddering gasp. She was absolutely still except for the light clinking of her necklaces as she breathed in again, slowly and evenly, as if she had fallen asleep.  

"Are you alright?" I asked.

She didn't answer. _Can a witch be narcoleptic?_ It was probably just part of her act, but I thought I should get Madam Pomfrey all the same. Just to be sure she wasn't faking it; I took the pillow off my bed, and whacked her on the head with it, as hard as I could. Her glasses were knocked a little crooked, but she didn't react. I slid out of bed, keeping my back to the wall, and inched past the still professor, towards the nurse's office. The hospital door was closed, but I kept to the wall just the same, in case any other professors decided to burst in. It took forever to side step around the perimeter of the entire hospital main room, but when it comes to avoiding public nudity, I'm doggedly persistent. I looked up every few steps, but Trelawney stood in the exact same place.  I finally worked my way to the office door, and raised my arm to knock. A hand closed over my wrist.

Trelawney was no more then a foot in front of my face. She'd moved without a sound. Her eyes were opened but they were rolling around in her head. Her mouth opened and she took another deep rattling breath. I tried to pull my arm free, to no avail.

"**_It is too late_**," she growled a horse voice.

"What?" I redoubled my efforts to free my arm, but her grip didn't loosen in the slightest. Her eyes rolled faster and I had a terrible idea that they were seconds away from flying right out of her skull.

 **_"Too late will they see the truth. The legions of the Dark Lord walk free once more. His most faithful shall offer up to him the blood of his enemy and the Dark Lord shall rise again, but in his rising he shall be forever bound to the one he marked. His wrath shall not be stayed, and death shall be a blessing. His most loyal shall cut out the enemy's heart, and leave him to the darkness. When… the end comes…five summers hence… the Dark Lord shall seize his enemy, and there shall be no mercy…death…shall…leave…but one."  _**

            "Sibyll! What in blazes are you doing?"

            I hadn't heard the nurse leave her office, but I was glad her timing was only slightly off.

            "She won't let go!" I said with another exemplary tug. Of course this time my hand came free right away, and I landed on the very cold stone floor. I scrambled up again right away, and put my back to the wall.

            Professor Trelawney was blinking rapidly as if she'd just been poked in the eye. "Oh dear, I must have dozed off or a moment."

            "You were grabbing a student and shouting something about death," Pomfrey said in her most powerfully disapproving manner.

            "Oh! You must have misheard me. I would never do any such thing." She looked at me as if I could confirm her statement.

            I stared back, open mouthed. "You said Voldemort is coming back!" The nurse and the professor both jumped as I said the "V" word. "You said it was too late and that the legions of the Dark Lord were free again, then you said something about getting blood and someone's heart and that death was going to leave one! You said…"

            "I could not have said that!"

            "Yes you did! You said…"

            "Harry if you would please calm down," said a quiet voice from the doorway.

            I don't know how he knew something was happening in here, but he definitely knew what was going outside, and he had no right to keep me here under false pretenses. I turned to face Dumbledore, ready to glare down any attempts at appeasement. I was about to fire off my thousands of angry questions when there was a gasp from behind me. I turned back again. Professor Trelawney was goggling at me, and Madam Pomfrey was almost laughing.

            "What?" I asked, turning to look around the room again.

            "Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, "if you would be so kind as to find Mr. Potter some proper outerwear, I think we shall continue this conversation in my office." 

            Upon our arrival in his office the first sentence out of my mouth was, unsurprisingly, a request to drop divinations class. He waved me toward a chair, and I sat down after a quick look around for rats.

            "But why would you wish to end your studies in Divinations?" asked the headmaster, as he seated himself behind his desk.  

            _Because I couldn't stand to be in the same classroom as someone I'd accidentally mooned?_ I didn't say that out loud of course, as Dumbledore was already having too much fun at my expense. It seemed as good a time as any to put the focus back on my real question.

            "Ron tried to get into the hospital earlier, to tell me something about Azkaban." I found my anger evaporate as I spoke. I was too frightened of Dumbledore's answers. "What…did they…I mean…did they get Sirius?" My voice was shaking as I said the last part. 

            "As far as I know Mr. Black is not in Ministry custody, but beyond that I have no information to give you Harry.  This may seem impertinent to you, but all the same I must ask." The headmaster paused to adjust his glasses. "Did Sirius Black ever tell you, even in jest, that he was going to return to Azkaban?"

            My mouth dropped open. "Of course not!"

            "Did he, at anytime, express an intention to kill the Death Eaters who remain in Ministry custody?"

            "No!" A punch in the stomach would have felt comparatively good at this time. "What's Sirius done?"

            "I can tell you only the information I have gathered from others. By the time Minister Fudge informed me of the situation, it was over. It is too late."

            "The legions of the Dark Lord walk free once more." The words tumbled out of my mouth, and I felt cold. "Trelawney said…I thought she was making it up, like usual."

            The look Dumbledore gave at that moment could have bored a hole right through my head. "Harry, you must tell me exactly what she said."

            "But what about…"

            "I will tell you all I know about Mr. Black's situation, but I must know what occurred with Professor Trelawney."

            I didn't have any reason to feel guilty, but I couldn't help it as the headmaster continued to stare. I must have repeated my story eight times before Dumbledore was satisfied that he had every detail. He looked as if he was about to throw me out of his office, so I asked again.

            "What's Sirius done?"

*****

It was the first time Hedwig failed. When I first saw her coming towards the window of the dormitory, I thought she had found Sirius, even though the rest of Wizarding world had failed, but the paper clutched in her claws was only a news paper. She fluttered through the window, and dropped the new paper into the steadily growing pile at the end of my bed. Though no one had seen Sirius Black in over a week, he was still in firm control of every front page.

I threw Hedwig an owl treat, and unrolled the newest issue of the _Evening Forecast, _which sported the headline:

**Survivors Tell All: Black Death Comes to Azkaban**.

Under it lay a picture of the island. Gray waves splashed against a gray stony shore, over which loomed a blacked cliff of volcanic rock. The faintest hints of barred windows were visible, carved into the shear face of the cliff. I had eight other pictures of the island, and this latest one didn't show me anything I didn't already know.

Though the pictures in the _Forecast_ were not as good as those featured in the _Daily Prophet_, I'd learned that the articles were much less prone to sensationalism. Hermione insisted I use that word. She seemed to think "sensationalism" was better then "huge stinking lies made up by cowardly bottom feeding reporters who are full of…of Dragon dung." Anyway the _Forecast_ didn't beat me over the head with wild theories about "Black's plans for world domination" or "the real target of the Azkaban Massacre."       

The first article in the Forecast actually gave me some hope. The reporter, Bethany Sliverfoot, managed to interview one of the two surviving wardens, and the only surviving muggle. I finished the rest of the paper, and then went through it with my scissors, to sift out the information worth keeping. I discarded the shreds of the original, and went to the folder where I kept the important stuff. With Silverfoot's article, I had an almost complete picture of how it happened.

_The_ _Evening Forecast;_ Saturday, the tenth of June.

**Benjamin Archer's Tale of Survival**

By Bethany Sliverfoot

_Even around Azkaban, early June weather is hot. Humid mist rises around the rocky island, cloaking it even more deeply from the sight of the outside world. The guards of Azkaban may not mind the extra layer of obscurity, but on Saturday, the third of June, it had the wardens concerned. The Dementors do not think about the future. They do not worry about the workings of the world, so long as they have souls from which to feed. They do not strive or plan and the only force holding them to their rigid and secure patrols are the wizard wardens of the island. Thought the Ministry was certain they had the Dementors well in hand, they were not quite confident enough to leave them unsupervised. When the cloud of fog grew so thick that it hid the shallow water markers from sight, Benjamin Archer knew something was wrong._

_"I went down to the shore, with the intention of summoning up a breeze to clear the view. At first I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was a deep chugging sound, like hundreds of kettles over boiling at once, and it took me several more moments to realize it was some sort of muggle engine. It could not have been happening. Muggle devices don't work within a league of Azkaban. Their motorized boats go dead in the water and the current carries them back toward the mainland. I tried to tell myself it was a trick of the weather, but the sound was growing louder and undeniable._

_"I called down Nathan MacNash and John Fleetwood, the other wardens on duty, and we were getting the brooms, to fly out and turn the ship around, when there was the most god awful clatter. There was a renting sound, like a giant tearing open metal gates. We flew down the shore a little ways and found the ship. It was one of those large muggle fishing vessels, with a mechanical crane on the back to lift up nets full of fish. It had run aground and there was huge hole in the side of it, at least five yards across, and half that high. The hole couldn't have been caused in the crash, the metal was bent outward._

_"I knew then it was some kind of prison break. Muggles never try to fish near Azkaban. The waters are as haunted as the island. We had our wands out, waiting for trouble. There was a scream, a woman, and then smoke poured from the ship. Muggles came scrambling out the open side like rats. They ran in all directions, some came at us, some ran to the water and tried to swim. They panicked. There must have been at least fifty of them. They were so frightened…"_

_            At this point Mr. Archer pauses to rub the bridge of his nose. His eyes are haunted as he speaks again._

_            "The Dementors must have felt them coming a mile away. All those terrified people. We commanded them to remain in the building, but they came rushing out onto the shore. The muggles couldn't see them. Some ran right into their arms. I'll never forget the screaming. The Dementors even chased the ones who tried to swim for it. They glided out over the water in some unholy parody and scooped the muggles out. Some of them tried to hold their breath and hide under the water. I saw an elderly woman dive beneath the surface. She never came up again. Maybe that was for the best._

_            "The Dementors came towards us as well. They would not stop. They ignored our commands. Only four of the muggles reached us, begging for help, for mercy. The rest were caught. I can create a corporeal Patronus. You have to be able too, before they let you on the island, as a warden I mean. There were so many of them though. We could barely summon a mist to keep them away. _

_            "They were out of control. There was nothing more we could do.  We backpedaled towards the prison. When we got inside, MacNash sealed the entrance. The Dementors that were already outside would not be able to get back in, but I knew there were still some inside with us. Jeremiah Burke, the administrator, was in the main office and I had him send a Floo call to the Ministry, telling them what had happened. They said help was on the way, but it would be an hour at least. You can't apparate onto or off of Azkaban, and the Floo network is for communication only._

_"MacNash, Fleetwood, and I went over our options. We couldn't leave the island unguarded, but we had to get the muggles out of there. We agreed that using the emergency Portkeys was our best bet.  The Portkeys would drop the muggles right in the middle of the Atrium in the Ministry building, and the Obliviators could take care of them from there. The trouble was the Portkeys only work outside the island's security wards, so we'd either have to make the muggles swim beyond them, or take them out to the end of the main dock on the other side of the island. Either way we'd have to go outside again._

_"I sent Fleetwood and Burke to do a quick sweep of the main corridors, to make sure none of the prisoners had gotten out while we were down on the shore. Fleetwood headed for the high security block first. It was the last time I saw him alive._

_"MacNash went down to the vault to get the emergency portkeys and I was left alone, guarding the Muggles. There were three men and one woman, young looking, and they didn't seem to know each other. They just looked at me with frightened expressions, and when I finally spoke to them they jumped. _

_"They couldn't remember how they ended up on the boat. Dolores, the woman, said that she'd been shopping in __Trafalgar Square__ when she heard a popping sound. She turned towards it and there was a flash of red light. She woke up in the hold of the fishing boat, surrounded by strangers. They'd tried to get out, but the doors to the hold were locked. About an hour after she woke up the ship ran aground. A man appeared, short and wearing a black robe with a white mask. He pointed a wand and the side of the hull and it just ripped itself open. The black robed man ordered them to get out, but they were too frightened to move. When no one obeyed, the man pointed his wand at them and a blast of fire came flying at them. They ran outside and the invisible things attacked them._

_"I knew then that we were dealing with Death Eaters. I used a voice amplification charm to call down to Burke and Fleetwood. Burke called back that he hadn't seen any sign of them. Fleetwood didn't answer. I was about to go to the high security block when MacNash's voice came echoing through the halls. He said he was pinned down in vault, by at least ten wizards. I was going to leave the muggles locked up in the office, but they wouldn't hear of it, and to be honest it wouldn't be that much safer. I let them come along, and as we were going out into the hall, one of the men, I can't remember his name, noticed MacNash's golf bag, behind his desk.  The muggles each insisted on taking a club with them. I didn't think it would do them any good, but it kept them moving._

_"We met up with Burke in the hall outside the vault. Everything had gone quiet, and nobody wanted to stick there head around the corner to see. One of the muggles had a good idea though. He used the shiny blade of the putter as a little mirror, to see what was what. He turned pale and handed the putter over to me._

_"MacNash was dead and they didn't use anything as clean as the killing curse on him. He was splattered across the doorway of the vault, and I could see the Portkey's were gone. The Death Eaters must have been heading for the main dock rather then the grounded boat. Burke and I knew we'd have little chance of stopping them, but we ran for the dock all the same. I didn't realize the muggles were still following us until we were at the entrance doors, which were hanging open. _

_"One of the muggle men asked me if there was anything out there. I told him probably. I could hear the water hitting the shore, and nothing else. We used the golf club trick again, and as far as we could see it was clear. We jogged down the shore. The near end of the dock came into view, but the far end was hidden in mist. I thought we were too late, but then one of the muggles shouted._

_"A blast of green light came at us from between the pilings of the dock, and another blast came from behind an outcropping of rock at the base of the cliffs. Burke and I threw ourselves to the ground, but the muggles didn't catch on fast enough. Two of the men were hit, and fell to the ground, dead and surprised._

_"More curses came flying at us and we tried to fight back, but we were pinned by the crossfire. We'd all have been killed if the Dementors hadn't shown up right then. The blasts from the base of the cliff cut off instantly and three of the prisoners went running for the dock. I managed to stun the last one, but the curses from under the dock forced me to duck again. The Dementors fell upon the one I'd stunned. They were coming towards us as well, but Burke summoned his Patronus, and they kept their distance. I always used to tease him about it. His Patronus is a mangy little cat with a missing ear.  I'll never do it again though. _

_"I was focused on the dock and Burke was keeping our souls safe, but I'd left my back unguarded. If it hadn't been for the muggles, well…I owe them my life to be honest, them, and their golf clubs. I should have known the Death Eaters would have a few more tricks up their sleeves, but I didn't expect an Animagus._

_"Azkaban is crawling with roaches and rats, and when I saw one coming towards us I ignored it. It went right past me. A second later I heard a pop. I was still turning as I saw the small gray rat expand into a masked Death Eater, ten feet behind me, wand already aimed at my head. The muggle man, I remember his name now, Andrew Pauling, stood up and threw his golf club. It knocked the Death Eaters arm off target, and the woman, Dolores, charged him. She was screaming the whole time, pounding away at him with a nine iron. She broke his wand in half and hit him in the head so many times blood soaked through one side of his mask. Andrew yelled at her to duck, but she was deaf to us. A green light hit her in the back. She's the only person I've seen die with an angry expression frozen on their face by the killing curse. The Death Eater turned back into a rat, and ran. Andrew almost got him with a golf club, but not quite._

_"Things were looking very bad then. The prisoners broke cover and crawled onto the dock. The Animagus must have brought them all wands, because curses were literally raining down on us. I was praying for all I was worth and trying to protect my face from all the shrapnel they were blasting loose. Through all the noise I heard something else, a high whirring buzz. It was another muggle boat. _

_"I looked towards the water and for a moment I saw it, through a thin patch in the mist. It was one of those small fast boats, you know, the ones muggles race and crash all the time. I saw who was driving it as well, and I thought we were doomed._

_"The boat was hidden in the fog a moment later, but all the prisoners seemed to have noticed it too. I was surprised that they didn't look happy. A second later a red light sent half of them flying into the water. There was shouting and confusion, and another red light sent them running for cover. They jumped off the dock and scrambled back up the shore, trying to find cover from the hail of red and green light falling upon them. Nothing was fired our way, so I assumed we hadn't been seen. I thought our only chance was to get to the dock, and pray they'd dropped a Portkey. _

_"We crawled along the edge of the water, dragging ourselves along by our elbows. A high surge of water soaked us. My robes felt as if they weighed a ton, and made sounds like someone slapping a fish. The three of us made it to the pilings without drawing fire. We huddled under the dock, searching our meager shelter for a dropped portkey, but our luck had run out. We sat and listened as curses flew back and forth overhead for another half hour._

_"There was a pause, and I heard the muggle racing boat pull up to the dock. The engine died, and there was a thump on the wooden planks, as the passenger disembarked. The ominous thump, thump, thump of heavy boots inched towards us, and I could see a shadow, covering the thin strips of light that shown down on us._

_"'You don't seem happy to see me Peter!' Black shouted that at the top of his voice and he was half laughing as he did. There was another flash of light and a thump as Black side stepped a curse."               _

_            Archer pauses again to shake his head._

_            "I still can't figure it out. What happened after that doesn't make any sense to me. A blasting curse disintegrated the wooden dock above our heads, and a second later we were staring up at Sirius Black. I might have had a stupid expression on my face, or maybe everything's funny to a mad man, but Black laughed at us as if we were the silliest things in the world. The Expelliarmus curse hit Burke and me at the same time, and our wands flew away. Black looked mildly disappointed as inspected his catch. He sidestepped another curse the prisoners threw at him, looking almost bored as he did so._

_            "'Come out of there', Black said. I didn't see that we really had a choice. I scrambled out, then crouched down on the dock, incase the prisoners took another shot. Burke came next, shaking. Andrew was looking at us confused. Being a muggle, he didn't know what Black's capable of, and when Black offered him a hand up he actually took it, and said thanks. _

_            "'You know how to drive a power boat?' Black asked the muggle, while ignoring us completely. Andrew nodded. 'Anyone else make it off the fishing boat alive?' Black asked him next. Andrew shook his head. Black held out a set of keys and Andrew took them. 'The boat's at the end of the dock. Go slow till you get out past the rocks. Once you're clear, circle south.  There's an English Navel Vessel coming up that way. They should be able to get you home alright.' Andrew nodded again and walked backwards, toward the end of the dock. _

_            "Black looked down at us then. I thought he was going to kill us. I remember the way he stared at us from his cell, during the weeks before he escaped. He had the same expression on his face. He looked disappointed. 'Are you going to help me?' he asked. I thought it was some sort of invitation to join You-Know-Who, and I said no, but now I'm not so certain. _

_"When he had my answer, he just pointed toward the end of the dock and said 'leave.' Burke and I followed Andrew. We climbed into the muggle boat.  Andrew put the key into a little slot, pulled some levels and turned some dials, and the engine roared to life. The boat pulled away from the dock, and the last thing I saw was Black's back, before the mist covered everything. We saw a few flashes of light and heard more blasting as the battle continued. After that we reached the open sea. A Ministry found us a few hours later, and we were taken back to Auror headquarters."      _

There it was. Dumbledore told me they found four of the escaped prisoners dead on the shore, and the _Daily Prophet _had later confirmed their identities. Rodolphus Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, Aloysius Redford, and Lydia McClintock had fallen to Sirius. Eight other prisoners were still unaccounted for, and their names had not been released. The soulless muggles were gathered up, and brought to St. Mungo's hospital, but only twenty were found in all. The Ministry assumed the rest had wandered into the sea and drowned. The Dementors were again acting with complete obedience. I suppose the Ministry thought it was a nice tidy ending.

I couldn't help feeling sick as I thought about it. All those people died, and they never even knew what was happening to them. Their families would never know what happened to them. Their kids could've been left waiting outside their schools, wondering why their moms and dads hadn't driven through the parking lot to pick them up yet. Pettigrew was responsible for all of it.

I went to the window and looked out again, hopping to see a huge black dog sneaking across the lawn, but there was only grass waving softly in the moonlight. I went to my bed and flopped down. I was worried for Sirius, but even more I was angry.

It was all worked out. Dumbledore had agreed to it the week before my most recent transformation. I was going to spend the summer at Grimmauld Place. The Dursleys would never have me if they knew I was a werewolf, and now it was all up in the air. My anger was selfish, I'll admit it, but I deserve a little selfishness every once in a while don't I?  _Sirius had to go chasing Pettigrew on his own! He could have called Dumbledore for help. He could have asked me_! I could have helped him, but now all I had was a pile of newspapers and a fading hope that he'd managed to escape eight Death Eaters and made the swim to shore again.

Seamus walked into the room then. He gave my pile of newspapers a weird glance, and then continued onto his desk. I pulled the curtains around my bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying to convince my stomach to untie itself. _They never found the body_, I thought to myself. _They never found his body._

_They aren't looking for a large dead dog_ said the little voice in the back of my head.

I spent another night without sleep. 

 


	26. Reformulation

**Disclaimed**

**Author's Note**: The end is near! 

**The Basement**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 26: Reformulation**

            The seat squeaked. Every time I moved, to stretch or even breathe, the seat squeaked. I admit my reaction could be viewed as excessive and possibly extreme if you want to get specific with your adjectives, but everyone has been there at one point. All I wanted was to sit and not think in peace. I'd tuned out the clatter of the wheels on the tracks, and the rattling of the cars. I convinced Hermione to stop picking at me and I convinced Ron to stop trying to cheer me up, and I'd pushed Neville Longbottom out of the compartment entirely, and it just kept going.

            Squeak!

 Squeak! 

Squeak! 

SQUEAK! 

SQUEAK! 

**SQUEAK! **

**SQUEAK! **

**SQUEAK!**

WhenRon and Hermione's shouting finally sunk in, I noticed my fists were clenched around stuffing and bent up springs. Bits of lint and upholstery drifted though the air like seasonally displaced snow.

            "Sorry," I said.

 I didn't mean it though. Sorry doesn't mean anything anyway. Dumbledore and Lupin had been apologizing to me none stop for two days straight, but that didn't stop the situation from sucking. Thinking about it made me want tear more padding off the seat.

            "Harry, I am sorry. That won't be possible."

            Dumbledore said it with complete sincerity, but I didn't believe him. I'd used up my last idea, my last hope, and he just threw that stupid word at me. Any of my ideas could have worked. 

I could have stayed at the school for the summer and transformed in Professor Lupin's office like I usually do. Even if Lupin was going off to hunt escaped Death Eaters for the entire summer, I could supervise myself. I told him I'd pay for room and board, I'd do extra chores. I'd help Snape make potions to earn my keep.

He said no, it was too dangerous.

I could have stayed at Grimmauld Place by myself. Snape could bring me the Wolf's-bane potions and I could have transformed in the bathroom. If the Ministry couldn't find me there, I don't think a bunch of Voldemort's lackeys would have any luck.

He said no, it was too dangerous.

I could have gone with Lupin to help hunt the Death Eaters down. I'm very good at defense. I offered to show Dumbledore the Patronus I could conjure. If he though the Death Eaters were after me, I could be the bait.

He applied a "sorry".

I sat slumped in the chair, glaring at the weird silver contraptions on the Headmaster's desk, refusing to make eye contact with him.  I knew the last one was a little far fetched, but the first two I could have pulled off. 

"You will be safe at your aunt and uncle's house," Dumbledore said. "I know it is unpleasant…"

"And how would you know? Peeked in the window before you left me on their doorstep I suppose?"

 I could feel him staring at me, trying to make me look at him, but I wouldn't. 

"I will personally explain the situation to them. I'm certain they will be reasonable…"

            "Even you can't make that sound true."

            He was about to speak, when his attention was drawn to a knock at the door. "Come in, Severus," he called softly.

            I heard Snape come in, but I didn't bother to look at him either.

            "Harry, if you would excuse us?" the headmaster asked.

            I left. I managed not to look at Dumbledore as I went, but Snape was unavoidable, as he was rudely blocking the door way. I knew if I said something he'd take a few hundred points away from Gryffindor, and since the end-of-the-year feast was only an hour off, I wasn't going to risk it. I wasn't going to back down either. It was his fault and he should move. He should be the one having a miserable summer. He's the one who should apologize. He's the only one who should apologize. I glared into his coal like eyes.             

            His lip twitched and I thought a sneer, followed by a scathing comment was on the way. But some other expression flashed across his face, too fast for me to categorize. And then his face went completely blank. He stepped out of my way and continued on toward the chairs. I walked out, not bothering to close the door behind me. 

            As usual Gryffindor won the house cup. Even with the whole house screaming like maniacs I couldn't get in the mood to celebrate.  Hermione and Ron began a "cheer up Harry" campaign, which only made things worse, because other students were listening and they started bothering me with questions about what was wrong and soon half the table was talking about what was the matter with me. I left before the food was served.

            I didn't go back to the dormitory. Instead I walked out the gates, onto the lawn. The forest was loud with birds and bugs and weirder animals I couldn't name. I headed for the edge of it. Wandering into the forbidden forest was of course forbidden, but I wasn't going in far. 

            Even before I was bitten I'd been feeling a little claustrophobic, and when I was upset it was worse. The Dursley's house would be like being stuffed into one of those plastic dog carrying crates they have at the pet store. I could imagine myself stuffed in one of those little boxes. They'd just put me in one of those, then me and my school trunk would go into the cupboard for the rest of the summer.

 The forest sounds didn't change as I passed the first trees, so I was fairly certain nothing large and carnivorous was coming my way. When the castle was hidden from view I stopped and found a nice flat rock to sit on. I'd come into the forest to clear my head, but now all I could think about was the coming summer at the Dursleys. I was being over dramatic in Dumbledore's office. I knew they wouldn't try to kill me or anything like that. They might throw me out, but that wouldn't be all that bad really, and it would prove me right.      

            I was more worried about being separated from the rest of the world for three months as well. If they found Sirius dead, would they tell me? If he was caught again, would I know soon enough to speak in his defense? I was still brooding when the claws sank into my scalp.

            I screamed and shook trying to get it loose, and managed to roll off the nice flat rock, onto many smaller, pointier rocks that stuck out of the ground around it. With a hiss it let go and hopped onto the rock, occupying the space I'd just been sitting in. The pooka giggled and winked at me as I stood up and brushed off my robes.

            "You're a pest, you know that?" I said.

            The pooka giggled. We still hadn't come up with a name for it, an official name at least. Ron and Seamus referred to him as "the little Bastard", and Hermione and most other people called it the Pooka. I just called him "you." He didn't seem to care anyway. I sat down next to it, and it giggled again. 

            Despite Hagrid's assurances that the Pooka was not a superconductor of bad luck, weird things always happed around it; simple levitation charms turned their targets into flamingos; couch cushions spontaneously burst into flames; cauldron cakes tasted like pickles; things so random you couldn't really call them luck. The pooka was going home with Ron that summer, though if I had to go to the Dursleys I wouldn't exactly mind having him around. If he made Aunt Marge explode I don't think I could get in trouble for it. My brooding was interrupted yet again, this time by the sound of hoof beats.

            I saw the silhouette of a centaur coming slowly though the trees. The moon was nothing more then a sliver, blocked out completely by the foliage, but the centaur's white blonde hair was visible, even in the dark of the forest. I recognized him immediately. It is rather hard to forget the person who saved you from a unicorn-blood-drinking-Voldemort-possessed former school teacher.   

            "Hello Firenze," I called quietly.

"Who is there?" he called back.

I guess my black robes were fairly good camouflage in the lightless forest.

"It's me, Harry Potter."

Firenze came up to the rock I was sitting on, and stared at me hard, as if he suspected I was lying.

"I am…" he struggled for several moments to find a word, "…surprised."

"Why?" I asked.

"I foresaw we would meet again, but not for many months. Why have you come into the forest?"  

That's the thing with Centaurs. They're always talking about how the stars and planets are telling them this or that. I might be tempted to say they're as bad as that old fraud Trelawney, but then again she wasn't such a fraud, and thinking about the prophesy was almost as bad as thinking about the coming summer.

"I needed some space," I answered eventually.

"Something is wrong," the centaur stated. "Would you tell me?"

"Blood! The enemy's blood!" declared the pooka, in its high tittering voice, before launching into another round of giggles. I hate when it says what I'm thinking. 

"Blood?" asked Firenze. I think he was addressing the pooka, but it seemed disinclined to answer.

"Firenze, you're always predicting stuff," I started off nervously. I'd only spoken to him once before. "You know a lot about astrology I mean, and I was wondering, since you seem to know something about the topic, how accurate are prophesies?"

"A true prophesy is always accurate, but at the same time the accuracy depends upon its interpretation. A spoken Prophesy can be rife with double meaning."

"What about a spoken prophesy that said 'His most faithful shall offer up to him the blood of his enemy and the Dark Lord shall rise again'?"

"That does sound…bad," the centaur said thoughtfully. "There is more to it?"

I told him the rest. As I spoke the pooka echoed the less pleasant words, saying "blood" and "death" just after I did.

"Are you certain the Prophesy was true? In my experience humans have a habit of embellishing what little knowledge they are able to glean from the mists of the future."

"Dumbledore seemed to think it was true."

Firenze turned away from me and looked up at the canopy of the forest, peering through a small gap in the branches.  "This is disturbing, but not unexpected. Mars burns brighter every night."

"Burns!" the pooka cried. It leapt off the rock and disappeared into the undergrowth of the forest. Long after it was lost from sight I could hear its high voice.

"Burns!"

"Burns!"

"Burns!"

Firenze insisted on walking me back to the castle gates. I was about to go through when he put a hand on my shoulder.

"There is some new darkness working here, and I do not know its name," the centaur said.

I looked back at him, and his neon blue eyes seemed to glow in the faint light from the school.

"Maybe it doesn't have one," I said. 

I was pulling the mystical talk out the thin air, but Firenze seemed to think I'd said something clever, because he nodded sagely. Without another word, the centaur turned and trotted back into the shadows of the forest.

As I was dragging my trunk onto the train platform, Dumbledore had come up to me, with his final decision. The Dursleys would not be told immediately, as the full moon would not appear for another two and a half weeks. Arrangements would be made for me to transform in the vicinity of Privet Drive. Of course he didn't give me any of the details, just that annoying little teaser. So really, my mood on the train was perfectly reasonable.  

            I didn't say much the entire ride. I said good bye to Ron and Hermione at the King's Cross platform. I heard Ron muttering something about me having a temper tantrum to Hermione as they crossed the barrier into the muggle part of the station. I was tempted to chuck Hedwig's cage at the back of his head, but as she was still in it, I decided not to. 

            I waited about forty five minutes before I went through. I didn't want to offend the Weasleys, since they were always so nice to me, but I knew if I was surrounded by the Weasley cheer-up-brigade I'd say something I'd regret. When I crossed over to platform nine, the Weasleys were gone and the Dursleys were waiting.

            "Anymore funny business and I'll box your ears, do you understand me boy?" Vernon growled.

            "Nice to see you too," I said tonelessly.

            "Don't get smart with me! That little kidnapping stunt, half the neighborhood was popping over at odd times, picking through our trash bin and peeking over the fence. They seemed to think we'd buried you in the garden."

            Vernon seemed to have forgotten his point for a moment but Aunt Petunia took over smoothly. "Get to the car, and don't you dare do anything to draw attention to yourself!" she hissed.

            I was fairly certain their respective shouting and hissing was drawing more attention then me and my trunk, but I didn't start anything over it. We crossed the station, and when we got to the steps I dragged the trunk down by myself. I let Hedwig out at the top, so she could fly home. Being stuck in a stuffy car with three Dursleys for two hours was not a fate I'd wish on anyone. Petunia looked as if she wanted to yell at me to but her back, but Hedwig was a speck in the clouds before Aunt Petunia could fill her lungs properly. As we reached the bottom of the steps I noticed a lot of people were staring at me and I looked down at my feet, and continued to look at them as we marched across the parking lot. I might have spent the rest of the summer looking at my feet, but then Vernon shouted, and everything turned around.

He was sitting on the roof of Uncle Vernon's company car, with his legs folded under him like some kind of meditating holy man. His hands were resting on his knees, and he was twiddling a bit of brown string around the fingers of his right hand.

"Get off of my car this instant you filthy miscreant!" Uncle Vernon shouted, begging to turn a bit purple around the edges. 

At first glance I think Uncle Vernon mistook him for some sort of hippie. The long black hair hanging around his face and the rather grungy clothes did give him a somewhat wild appearance. Vernon was about to shout again, but Aunt Petunia grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back, giving little terrified squeaks the entire time. Dudley stood there, obviously confused, but he gets the same expression around street signs and parking meters. Uncle Vernon glared at me, as he tried to shake Petunia off his arm.  I could barely keep from laughing. I turned toward the car.

"Hi Sirius! Where've you been?"

"Oh, around, you know. Are you going to introduce me?" he asked lightly.

"Of course," I said cheerfully, feeling as if I'd just lost a ton of weight. "Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, this is Sirius Black, my godfather."

Uncle Vernon's face went from purple to green, and his mouth dropped open, leaving him with a rather fish like appearance.  "You…your…you're…" he sputtered, trapped no doubt between his fear of death and his hatred of men with long hair.

Sirius threw the little piece of sting he was playing with to me and held out his hand to my uncle. He leaned over the edge of the car, and made the thin metal of the roof to creak in protest. 

"Nice to meet you," Sirius said.

Uncle Vernon made no attempt to grasp the extended appendage.  As my relatives quaked in terror, I looked down at the string Sirius threw to me. It was about five inches long, and as I turned it in my hand, I was a bit surprised by its rubbery texture. 

Aunt Petunia's squeaks of terror were increasing in frequency and volume, and I remembered then that there were a lot of wizards in the area, picking up their children as they got off the school train.

"Sirius?" I said, getting his attention. "Perhaps you should get down off the roof, low profile and all that."

"You're right of course," Sirius said, as he hopped lightly to the ground, causing the Dursleys to step back in horrified unison. "That's my problem," he said to Uncle Vernon as if confessing. "I never think before I act. I mean I'll get the urge to do something and…" Sirius slammed his fist into the palm of his opposite hand, with a very loud smacking sound, "…bam! It's done. All that time in prison, you'd think I'd learn my lesson, but really I seem to be in more of a rush to get things over and done with then before. That's one of the reasons I'm so fond of your nephew; he thinks things through, more then I do anyway. He's quite convincing too. For example when I found out his 'Aunt Marge' had referred to my dearly departed friend Lily Potter in a less then pleasant manner, I was going to burn your house to the  ground, but then Harry, always the thinker that one, Harry says 'you really shouldn't burn their house down' and I think he was right, don't you?"

Vernon nodded blankly. I thought Sirius was laying on the crazy act a little thick, but then again I was worried it wasn't just an act. It usually wasn't. Before I could work myself into a panic over that, there was a sudden shout on the other side of the parking lot, and I saw Seamus and his mother goggling at us. Sirius didn't seem overly concerned with them though. He turned back to the Dursleys.

"I need a private word with Harry, why don't you have a seat in this lovely car of yours? Don't try to drive off though, or all have to set fire to you!" His voice never lost its cheerful tone as he spoke, but a shadow passed across his face that might have given a dementor reason to tremble. When the Dursleys had climbed into their car, rolled up the windows and locked the doors, Sirius turned back to me. 

"Have you been alright?"

"Mostly," I said, looking back to Seamus and his mother, who were rushing up the stairs, back into the station. "Have you told Dumbledore you're back yet?"

He shook his head. "I've only just gotten back into the country. I lost track of them Harry, in Germany.  Some of their old supporters came crawling out of under their rocks. I did manage to get Travers and a little bit of Pettigrew."

"A bit of Pettigrew?" I asked.

He nodded and his eyes went to the bit of string in my hand, which I then realized was not string at all. It was a rat's tail. I used to think perhaps I'd like to see Pettigrew chopped up into many tiny pieces for what he'd done to my family and friends, but now that I was actually holding one of those pieces, I felt more then a little nauseous.

"Do you want to keep it?" Sirius asked, as if this bit of decomposing…stuff was invaluable treasure. I shook my head and swallowed hard, handing it back to him.

"So they're heading for Albania you reckon?" I asked. Dumbledore had mentioned that was where Voldemort's disembodied self was rumored to reside. 

"Eventually, I should explain things to Dumbledore first."

"Are you going to explain them to me?"

Sirius looked at me for a long second. "I'll write to you when I get the chance. It would take hours to tell you all of it. Things are happening too fast. We've got to stop them before they find a way to bring him back. Speed is our only hope."

"So I guess this means I'm not staying at Grimmauld Place this summer."

"I'd say I'm sorry and mean it, but I don't think that's what you want to hear. Harry, I don't want to leave you with them, but if I'm going to get Pettigrew I can't take you in. You understand?"

I nodded.

"Are you angry with me?"

I nodded again.

There was another shout from the station, and several people, obviously wizards from their robes, came charging out of the station towards us. Sirius put a hand on my shoulder.

"I'll make this up to you somehow, alright?"

I nodded. "Be careful," I said.

Sirius smiled, then very annoyingly put his hand on top of my head and messed up my hair so badly I didn't even see him disapparate. When I finally got my scalp in order, he was gone. I tapped on the window of Uncle Vernon's car, and reluctantly he unlocked the door for me. I shoved my trunk in, and tossed Hedwig's cage into Dudley's lap. Vernon started the engine, and was driving away before I had the door shut all the way.  A few wizards ran after the car, but they didn't come close to stopping it. They just waved and shouted, causing Vernon to drive faster.  I suppose they didn't want to use magic in such a public place. 

The Dursleys sat in tense silence as we drove back to Privet Drive, but I couldn't help but laugh. 

There was an echoing giggle from inside my trunk.

(**Author's Note**: Not quite over yet. An epilogue will be up soon!)


	27. Epilogue

Disclaimed

**The Basement**

**Epilogue**

**By Marz**

            If a more banal home exists, I can not claim to have seen it. The two story building was identical in architecture and coloration to every other house on the street.  The shrubs were trimmed with precision, and the lawn mowed to uniform length. The pastel flowers that bordered the off-white house were bland, and I doubted they would produce any notable fragrance. Every window of the house was curtained with the same dull off-white cloth. The only features that differentiated it from its neighbors were the slightly larger then average car in the driveway, and the number four on the letterbox. Though I was loath to approach any muggle residence closely, the headmaster had given explicit instructions.

            At exactly 5:37pm Potter was to leave his relative's home, and proceed immediately to the home of Arabella Figg, a few blocks away. It was a task even a mentally deficient three-year-old could perform, so of course Potter had to be supervised. I adjusted my cloak of invisibility, so that I could see my pocket watch. 5:42pm; that must be some sort of record for incompetence. I waited another five minutes before going to investigate.

            I'd been instructed not to use any detectable charms or curses, as the Ministry kept a somewhat adequate watch of the area, so I was forced to search on foot. The windows at the front of the house were completely obstructed with curtains, so I walked through the side yard, and around to the back. At first glance the back yard was as deserted as the front, but a sudden motion caught my eye. I turned.

            The sight was so ridiculous that I nearly dismissed it as surreal. A pair of feet kicked desperately in the air, just visible over the top of the back fence. I searched the rest of the yard carefully, just to make certain the situation was not some sort of elaborate if oddly baited trap, but the house was silent, and the sky was clear.

            The fence was a few inches taller then I, white washed, and topped with blunted pickets. I mentally cursed the headmaster for sending me, then grabbed the cross beam and pulled myself up. The scene before me almost made the entire blasted predicament worth it.

            Potter had apparently tried to climb the fence, but had somehow slipped or tripped in the attempt. Instead of falling on one side or the other, the front of his rather frayed belt had caught on the top of one of the pickets, and he was hung upside down. He was unable to free himself, because the shirt he wore, which was incidentally seven or eight sizes too large for him, had fallen up over his face and arms. His feet continued to wave pointlessly about in the air.

            I might have wished for a camera, if I were the sort. I took my knife from my sleeve, and slid it under the edge of Potter's belt. He seemed to notice then that he was not alone, and froze. I flicked the blade. He yelped as he landed on the shrubs in the neighbor's garden.

            After a few minutes of rolling about and kicking, Potter managed to put his shirt in order and get back to his feet. He was forced to hold up his trousers with one hand, as they were seven or eight sizes too large as well, and he was now belt-less. He adjusted his glasses with his free hand, eyes darting about the yard. Curiously he turned towards me. I glanced down to make sure the cloak was still covering my hands.

            "What are you doing here?" Potter demanded.

            I thought he was bluffing and stayed silent. He took his wand from his pocket and aimed it in my general direction.

            "I know you're there!" he said, attempting to put menace in his rather high voice, "I can hear you breathing!"

            I was fairly certain that that was a bluff as well, but I would be held responsible if the fool boy started firing curses all over creation. I chose to reveal myself.

            "You are over ten minutes late Potter."

            The boy jumped as I spoke, and for a moment he looked nauseous.

"Dumbledore sent you?" he asked, as if this were offensive.

            "Do you know someone else capable of preparing the Wolf's Bane potion?" He looked as if he had another pointless objection to voice, so I spoke first. "There isn't time for your whining Potter. The moon will rise within the hour."

            "Fine!" he declared, then turned and ran away from me, across the neighbor's yard. He climbed their fence with out incidence and disappeared from view. He was heading toward Figg's house. As I was not going to go hopping over muggle fences, I lowered myself to the ground, and went back to the sidewalk.

            As I came upon Figg's house I noticed an unusually large number of cats slinking off in the opposite direction, and as I started up the front walk, I was forced to side step the steady stream of felines, flowing non stop from the cat flap in the front door. Potter must have been inside. Werewolves and cats do not get along.

            As I entered the home the stench of cat urine washed over me. It was far from being the worst thing to ever float up my nostrils, but it added to the unpleasantness. I could hear the old squib and the boy chattering in the basement. I was half tempted to just lock the door right then and there. Tomorrow morning there would be one less batty old squib or one less Potter in the world, and we would all be better off. Of course Dumbledore would have my head if that happened. None the less, it was an enjoyable thought.

            I went to the kitchen to check the potion again. I told the squib not to touch it before I left to get Potter, so of course she had fiddled with it. The volatile nature of the potion precluded transport from my dungeons at Hogwarts, so I was forced to prepare it in her kitchen, on the primitive muggle stove. Closer inspection revealed that she had only given it an experimental stir. I would of course bring her meddling to Dumbledore's attention later.  I filled up a goblet, and proceeded through the hall, and down the tilted, rickety staircase into the basement. Potter was seated on one of the hundreds of stacks of old newspapers the mad old squib had collected there.

 This room at least did not stink of cats. Instead there was moldering paper and turpentine to contend with. I'd spent a good portion of my day in here, applying strengthening solution to all the walls and door, to ensure the werewolf would not be able to escape and massacre nearby muggles, should the Wolf's bane potion fail to work.  On a regular basis I proclaim the superiority of potions to charms, but in this incidence I will grudgingly admit, a reinforcing charm would have been a great deal less frustrating and time consuming. 

 Potter looked up as I reached the bottom of the steps, but the squib continued to blather on oblivious.

            "…won't be so bad I'm sure. Dumbledore knows what he's doing. It'll be over in no time. I'll make you breakfast in the morning. What do you want? Cream of wheat? Who doesn't like cream of wheat?"

            Potter just looked down at his hands and injected quite "no-thank-you"s whenever Figg paused for breath. He pulled at a loose thread in his sleeve.

            "…I could make pancake's I suppose. I don't know what I've done with the skillet though. Do you think I could make them in the oven? They are called cakes after all. Do you need a blanket? I suppose the fir will keep you warm enough. It's rather hot down here to begin with. Do you need something to keep you busy? I've got some cat toys upstairs. They're for cats of course, but I'm sure they'd give you something to do. I've got a ball of string that Mr. Tibbles is fond of. I don't suppose werewolves like to play with string?"

            Potter looked more miserable by the second, but I was forced to interrupt. I simply can not stand that many stupid questions crammed into such a short span of time.

            "Get upstairs Figg."

            The old woman gave a little gasp of surprise, but failed to have a heart attack. She gave me a glare and Potter a nod. Though she didn't argue about leaving I could hear her muttering about unpleasant house guests as she went up the creaking steps on equally creaky legs. The door to the basement shut with a little click a moment later.  Potter looked up from his sleeve then.

            "Why'd Dumbledore send you?" he asked in a flat voice. "Where's Sirius?"

            I thought perhaps I should ignore that inane question, as the wanderings of that particular madman were not my concern. But unfortunately that was no longer true in the least. He'd left Potter to me. I glared down at the boy, who refused to break eye contact.

            "I am here because Dumbledore requested I come. In regards to Black, I neither know nor care. I suppose he had something more important to attend to. Surely your godfather bothered to write to you, explaining his absence?"

            Potter didn't respond to my question, but he seemed to shrink down a little, as if trying to blend in with the stacks of moldy newspaper. There was a sudden clatter from the ceiling, and Figg muttered a curse, of the profane kind. Potter seemed to shrink even further.

            "It's not sound proof?" he asked quietly.

            "Unfortunately no. You'll have to keep the barking to a minimum."

            Potter was in my foot space in that same instant, glaring up at me, lips pulled back to reveal teeth, sharper then they should be.

            "Just give me the potion and get out!" he half growled half shrieked.

            I put the goblet in his shaking hands, turned and walked up the stairs. I locked the door behind me.

            I seated myself on the couch in Figg's living room. It was covered in cat hair, but no more then any of the other furniture. The thought of spending the entire night there was enough to turn my stomach, but Dumbledore had forced a promise out of me. I looked at the clock on the mantel. I watched it, to be more accurate. I watched the second hand swing around, and the minute hand follow slowly after it. As the hands finally swung into place, at six and nine, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and without thinking I took my wand from my sleeve.

            The first cries were choked and strangled. I found myself praying that they would not grow any louder, though I can think of no benevolent deity who would be inclined to listen to me. The boy groaned and for a moment the house and everything in it paused in tense silence. The screams that pierced it were not human.

            A glass shattered in the kitchen and a moment later Figg scrambled into the living room, tea all over her front.  She paused next to the couch, gave me an appraising glance and proceeded on to an arm chair that was a bit farther away from the basement door. She seemed utterly devoid of stupid comments.

            The screaming rose in pitch and volume until the windows rattled. I am not certain if I imagined it, or if I really could hear sounds of tearing and popping coming up through the floor, but I dislike to dwell on it in either circumstance. As the minute hand moved on to ten a final howl rose up around us, entirely animal. It faded slowly.

            Figg spoke and I started.

            "Dumbledore never did explain it to me," she said.  Her hands clenched the arms of her chair as if she was about to experience great and terrible pain. "How did Potter get bit in the first place?"

            I looked at the clock again. There were nine more hours to get through. Figg was still staring at me.

            "Do you know, Professor?" she repeated.

"Potter was trying to play hero. A werewolf was attacking someone, about to kill him, and Potter tried to fight it off, without a wand."

Figg's wrinkled face wrinkled even further as she processed the information. After another minute her face took on a faintly glowing expression that I could call nothing other then pride.

"I new he was a brave one," she said, as if this were some great accomplishment for which she deserved some credit. I could not help but correct her.

"The boy was a fool."

            It was a quarter past two when the scratching started. Figg had creaked off to bed six hours earlier. I'd spent most of that time figuring out how to operate a muggle television. The flickering lights that pored from the glowing screen made me feel slow and stupid and I was half sure I'd just imagined the sound at first. It came again, accompanied by a dog like whine.

            My wand had not left my hand since the werewolf transformed, and I held it in front of me as I approached the basement. I could see shadows darting across the thin strip of light that leaked from under the door. As I came near, the whining stopped, and I could hear the beast snuffling. The whine came again, more softly.

            I was unsure. If something had gone wrong I would be blamed, but I'm to blame any way. I got down on my hands and knees and tried to see through the quarter inch of space between the door and the floor boards. The werewolf's hot dry breath brushed my fingers.

            Instinctively I snatched back my hand. I don't know what I was thinking right there and then, but I ran to the kitchen sink. The only soap Figg had was in an odd bottle with a strange nozzle on the top, and I splattered it all over my coat trying to open it. The yellowish liquid smelled of something that might have had pretensions of being lemon.  I scrubbed until my skin was raw and the sink was filled with foam. As I watched the water run I remembered.

            It was one of the first things we learned in defense against the dark arts, second year. If a werewolf is not in the presence of humans, and not confined, it will seek water. The transformation causes them to shed fluid at every turn. Figg would be cleaning up her own basement, so I was unconcerned with that aspect of it. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Dumbledore had even mentioned it before I started my journey to this god forsaken muggle pit. The whining came again. I'd neglected to leave a bowl of water in the basement, and now the werewolf was nearly dying of thirst.

            I took one of the tasteless pink china bowls from the cup board and filled it from the faucet. As I carried to through the hall it sloshed over my hands and onto my shoes. The snuffling increased and suddenly the werewolf began to emit high pitched little yips. I knelt down and put a hand on the knob.

            "Go to the bottom of the stairs," I ordered.

My voice was shaking as I spoke and I could not steady it. My heart was nearly deafening me, and I wasn't sure if the werewolf had obeyed. I leaned down peeking through the crack again. I couldn't see it. But it could have gone down a step or two, and crouched out of view. It could be waiting, planning to dart out the second the door opened. I made the potion, but I didn't stay to watch Potter drink it. And I wasn't entirely certain Potter wouldn't just bite me anyway.

I steadied myself, and looked under the door again. I could see nothing but the far wall. My hand returned to the knob.

_On three_ I told my self.

_One!_ I picked up the pink bowl in one hand, and grabbed the knob with the other. My wand lay on the floor by my knee.

_Two!_ It was not as if the werewolf would die if it went for one night without water.

_Three!_ I twisted the knob and ripped the door open. I didn't try to see if the wolf was coming. I dropped the bowl down on the top step and slammed the door again, nearly catching my own fingers. I leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath, but it wasn't over.

The top step was slanted I'll admit, but I think the universe is still trying to settle old debts with me. I heard the bowl wobble, and then there was a clink, and a splash, and then fourteen more clinks as the bowl bounced down each of the steps. The werewolf gave a petulant whimper and I fought down the powerful urge to whimper back.

I heard it pushing the bowl around, rolling it across the floor. There was a faint slapping sound as it tried to lap up the few drops of liquid which clung to the battered china. I would have to do it again.

I fetched another bowl and filled it.

"Stay at the bottom of the stairs!" I ordered. It yipped in response.

I opened the door, my wand aimed at the steps. The werewolf was not in sight, but I saw the other bowl on the basement floor. It had cracked. I took the new bowl and tried to place it on the top step again, but immediately it began to roll. I snatched it back, and tried the second step, but that one was equally slanted. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the staircase. I pulled the door closed behind me, to make sure it could not escape. The steps creaked as I descended, bowl in one hand, wand in the other.

My eyes darted about the cluttered basement, searching the stacks of yellowed newspaper for the beast. There was a flicker in the corner of my left eye, but as I turned it leapt to the right. I nearly missed a step, and water splattered on my shoes. I realized it was the muggle light acting up, making the shadows quiver and jump. I reached the bottom. The other bowl still wobbled faintly, and there was a tiny trickle of blood on the cracked edge. I suppose the werewolf cut its tongue licking it out. I bent, setting the new bowl down. A shadow peeled itself away from one of the stacks and came towards me, accompanied by a myriad of clicking as its claws tapped the floor. I couldn't move.

 The creature was black as night, but the fur around its head stuck up in a series of random tufts, not unlike the bird's nest that usually rests atop Potter's skull. Its eyes were the same blazing green, and they watched me with Potter's characteristic lack of basic intelligence. The wolf sniffed at my hands which still hovered over the bowl. It looked up at me again, its nose barely a foot from my own. Its breath touched my face.  I could see laughter in its eyes, and the spell that prevented me from fleeing was broken. I backed up the steps, wand aimed, but the wolf dismissed me with a sneeze, and dunked its snout into the bowl. It didn't look up again until I was closing the door. It yipped once.

Thankfully, Potter's return to humanity was much quieter then his departure. There was an aborted howl, followed by a whine, a growl, and finally a miserable moan. It was five in the morning, but Figg was already up, in a tartan bathrobe and carpet slippers. Her head was cluttered with plastic curlers and she was muttering to herself as she passed me in the hall, and entered the kitchen.

"Do you want tea?" she called a moment latter.

I wanted to ignore her, but my eyes were trying to sink shut. "Yes, Thank you."

After a bitter cup of tea, I waited another twenty minutes, figuring that was more then enough time for Potter to put his clothes in order. I opened the door and started down the steps. The light was still on. The bowls lay where they had a few hours ago. Potter was slumped against a pile of papers. He'd put his pants on, as well as one sock and one shoe, before falling asleep.

"Potter!" I called.

He didn't respond. I nudged him with my foot. He groaned and curled up in a ball.

"Potter wake up!"

He moaned and curled up even tighter. "I'll cook breakfast…one minute…aunt Petunia…"

"I am not your aunt. Get up or get a detention!"

With another groan he struggled to sit up. His eyes searched the room blearily. I saw his glasses and few feet away and handed them to him. He put them on his face and looked up at me. His face fell even further.

"Oh yeah…right," he mumbled.

"Finish dressing Potter. We are leaving in ten minutes. You did want to be back before your relatives awakened did you not?"

He nodded. "Can you get me my other shoe?" he asked pointing vaguely towards the other side of the basement.

"I'm not your nursemaid." My lip began to twitch as I fought down a sneer.

Potter frowned, and then shrugged. He rolled over, and on his hands and knees began to crawl towards the shoe. As he moved every joint in his body popped. It was as if someone were cracking their knuckles repeatedly in close proximity to my ear. He got it, and began trekking towards his sock, which was on top of a stack of papers for whatever reason. The popping continued the whole way. I fetched him his shirt, just to avoid more noise.

When he was fully clothed, ( His shirt was on backwards, but I didn't want to waste anymore time), I started up the stairs. He crawled to the base of the steps, and grabbed the railing. His knees shook as he pulled himself up, but he made no requests for assistance.

Fig had cooked up a large pot of gray goop, into which she had stirred canned strawberries. She insisted Potter eat an entire bowl full of the stuff before she let him out of the house, and insisted on lending him a moth eaten red sweater, and a worn old belt before he went out the front door. As he left the cats came streaming back in.

Potter seemed incapable of anything more then baby steps. Despite glares and scathing comments he refused to quicken his pace. The neighbors were beginning to leave their homes, and I did not want to have to deal with a concerned and nosey muggle. I realized I'd left the invisibility cloak at Figg's house.

If it were up to me I'd say to hell with the magical monitoring spells around Potter's home, and simply levitate him back to his hovel, but as I mentioned before, Dumbledore would have my head. I grabbed Potter under the arm, to speed him along. He gave a little yelp and glared at me. As I pulled him along he began to stumble and trip. With something like a growl he shook off my hand.

"Stop it! Just leave me alone!" he shouted.

"If it were up to me I would have never come near you in the first place boy, but it is my responsibility to see that you are returned to your relative's house without incident."

"Whatever! I don't care. Just stop pulling on my arm." He looked as if he intended to run off again, but after two quick angry steps he returned to his snail's pace, breathing as if he'd just finished a marathon. I thought perhaps we would be able to proceed without further antics, but of course Potter had other plans. Half a block later, he decided to pass out. He slumped to boneless to the ground, and only came around after several forceful nudges with my foot.

I pulled him upright again, but immediately he began to tip over. The relative's house was only a hundred yards further, but if Potter continued at his current pace it would be noon before we arrived._ I have to wash these clothes either way_ I thought. He protested weakly when I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder. Three minutes later I set him down on his relative's front porch. He put a hand on his stomach and pressed the other over his mouth, swallowing convulsively. The look of nausea faded to one of outrage.

"I can walk…on my own," he gasped out.

"Apparently you can't. Stop wasting my time. Unlock the door and go inside so I can leave."

The boy paused, looking at the welcome mat. "Just go!"

"You forgot your key?" I wasn't at all surprised by that.

 "No!" he said, his face pinching up.

I crossed my arms, waiting for an explanation.

"I never had one. Go away. I'm back, you can go."

"Did it ever occur to you to knock on the door?" I asked.

"No, don't!" he said, but my knuckles were already striking the wood.

"Ok, you knocked. Now leave!" The boy became more agitated with every word.

There was a thump from within the house and then a progressive creaking as something huge and ponderous approached the entrance of the house. A pale outline appeared in the bubbled glass panel in the center of the door, a lock clicked, and it swung inward.

"Where the bloody hell have you been, boy?" said the rotund man, his face was pink and steadily heading towards purple. Potter shrugged, and the man, who I assumed to be Potter's uncle turned towards me. "And who the bloody hell are you?"

It occurred to me then that perhaps now was a good time to air the truth. These people after all had a right to know the nature of the creature they were taking into their home. And for muggles they had at least shown a little good judgment; their dislike of Potter was very apparent. I really should have said 'the full moon turned the boy into a blood thirsty animal and we had to lock him up in Mrs. Figg's basement' but some strange sentiment over took me. Also I don't take kindly to those who address me in a disrespectful manner.

"I am from the Department for the Regulation of Underage Magic," I said. "The underage wizard in your care attempted a transportation spell without Ministry sanction, and without any sort of training. He turned up in Glasgow last night. We apologize for taking so long to return him, but it was necessary to impress upon him the severity of his misconduct."

Potter was goggling at me, his mouth opened just enough to give him the appearance of a lack wit. The uncle reached out and grabbed Potter's wrist, dragging him into the house. "Don't worry, he'll be punished."

 The muggle made to slam the door but my foot prevented its closing.

            "I must also inform you that the boy may still exhibit symptoms of his ill conceived attempt at disapparating."

            "What?" said the uncle, glowering at me.

            "Should he once again spontaneously regurgitate live mice or snakes, he should immediately ingest a dose of corvalus potion. In case of spontaneous levitation of himself or others you should owl the department of magical catastrophe…"

            "Wait, what? Owl did you say? You can't leave him here if he's going to be pulling allsorts of freakish stunts!"

            "I assure you the chances of exhibiting side effects are somewhat rare, I simply am required to warn you of the possibilities. With proper rest he may remain asymptomatic."

            The muggle looked to be struggling with the three simple sentences I had given him. Potter, who had remained silent until then suddenly clutched his stomach and groaned. The uncle, apparently in desperate fear of mice, snakes or levitation, turned and scrambled down the hall, diving through the first door that presented itself. Without his uncle's no doubt unwanted support the boy began to tip over. I caught him under the arm.

            "Where is your room Potter?"

            He pointed up the staircase.

I pushed open the door to his small room, and helped him to the bed. He looked up at me with sunken blood shot green eyes, which for once held no impudence or loathing.

"Thanks," Potter said quietly.

To my surprise he actually sounded sincere.

I looked at him. I see Potter all the time; in my class befouling a perfectly good potion; in the halls with his lackeys plotting to stick their noses where they don't belong; on the Quidditch pitch, showing off a broom that costs more then some houses. I see him constantly, but I will admit that until Dumbledore gave me this assignment, I'd never really looked at him.  I suppose it's because he's so similar to his father. If you've seen one Potter, you've seen them all. It crossed my mind then, with a sick sort of irony, that Harry Potter looked different from his father because James Potter never had any gray hair. And James Potter certainly never suffered gray hair on my behalf.

I see people's weaknesses, and I see the things that will lead to their failure and their falls. I see in others the flaws that will leave them broken.  And as I stood there in that cramped muggle room, I understood what would bring Potter to his end.  Being a Gryffindor would destroy him.

I think, in that moment, I understood him. The boy saved my life, not for a reward, not for gratitude, not for fame. It was simply in his nature; his thoughtless, stubborn, self destructive, Gryffindor nature. He saw someone in trouble and he went to their aid. It was no more complicated then that, which made it all the more depressing. I looked at Harry Potter, and he looked back at me. In that moment I could not hate him.

Then he vomited on my shoes.

THE END


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